Born of the Sky
by TheMisnomer
Summary: Convinced by an evil and conniving Dumbledore, James and Lily abandon Harry in a dark forest shortly after his birth. In a twist of fate, this cruel act restores the ancient balance of magic in Great Britain. The dark is back - with a vengeance and with secrets that have been hidden for a millennia. Heavily AU, no Voldemort, Dark!Harry. Reboot of my abandoned fic "Storm Born."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

Hello folks. I won't keep you long, just some introductory things. This is my second attempt at this fanfic; in the first go I I sped ahead and did not build enough of a foundation for me to play with. So, I'm starting over and filling in the blanks. Slow burn. Updates will be slow. I am working on my PhD, and that has to come first.

This story is going to involve some same-sex relationships! It is rated T currently, this may change, but there will almost certainly be no smut, that would be way too awkward for me to write… There will however be mature themes and language—eventually. I'll up the rating once that is the case.

Feel free to PM me if you have questions or comments. Assuming they never grow too large in volume I will get back to you eventually. I appreciate every review and do my best to respond to them via PM.

I don't want to give too much away at this time. This is set in an alternate universe-things began to diverge from canon around the time of Grindelwald. I've also played with the age of a few characters (ex: some of the Weasleys). If I had to slap genre tags on this, they would include drama, adventure, sci-fi/fantasy, with some romantic moments.

Hope you enjoy, happy reading!

**1: Born of the Sky**

_Chapter warning: Gore_

It was a peculiar night.

High Priestess Analise Black, wife of Lord Arcturus Black, sat on the floor of her rooftop solarium. The solarium was built entirely of bronze and glass, curved with magic to be dome-shaped; about five meters high and twice as wide. The dome was lined with plants of all sorts: rare magical flowers, potions ingredients, and an assortment of useful or just beautiful muggle plants. There were rows and rows of planters dedicated to herbs, long vines creeping along the bronze frame, and hanging pots with long dangling vines of flowers.

The centre of the dome-room had a large elevated platform made of dark wood. Flowering vines flowed down along the edges of the platform, dangling inches from the floor. The top of the planform included a large golden telescope, an altar made of shiny black stone, and a waist high bookcase. Beside the bookcase was a heavily cushioned settee with a frame of dark wood, upholstered with rich violet fabric. Analise sat atop the platform in its centre.

It was a deadly calm evening. She could tell a storm was coming, it had been brewing in the sky all month. Not as many thought storms would brew—but the stars, the stars foretold this storm. After tonight, the storm would arrive. Tonight would be the last night to divine whatever it was the stars were trying to tell her.

But one thing was for sure, considering the behaviour of the stars, and now this deathly calm night, it was an omen. Storms like the one she expected tomorrow were always omens; and one on the tails of such a star-show especially. The Constellations had been calling her back to the skies all month—all of them practically screaming that something was coming. If only she could figure out what.

The stars in Arktos Megale and Mikra, the bears, were oscillating alarmingly fast, their brightness flaring unexpectedly before fading from the sky as if they'd never been there at all. Within the great and little bears, Helice and Cynosura were behaving particularly strangely; looking like glowing embers, spitting sparks into the sky around them. Other constellations were behaving strangely also—Ophiuchus was unexpectedly bright and Serpens flared whenever the bears went dark for a moment. All month the sky had been trying to tell her something but she was still left in the dark.

The most mysterious clue of them all was Aquila. Or rather, the lack thereof. Aquila had been inexplicably absent all month, having grown dimmer all of June until finally, on July 1st, it was gone without a trace.

And she had, in fact, been literally sitting in the dark every night. Like ritual, she would climb to the rooftop solarium and burn of bowl of dried herbs and flowers, hoping that with the right combination, and the favour of the divine, she might finally hear their message. It was the eve before the storm and she was desperate tonight.

Analise had climbed the stairs to arrive in the solarium early. She spent a great deal of time considering the ingredients for tonight's offering. She'd tried some of her most potent ingredients and most of the magical plants associated with divination, but she had not tried some of the more esoteric combinations.

The asters—of all things—called to her tonight. Her daughter had picked them for her as a girl, and Analise had kept them as a memento, a reminder of a time when the awful woman was a kind little girl. She would use them tonight, nothing else had worked so it was time to follow her gut.

Another dried blossom called to her: bird of paradise flowers. She had received them decades ago, when Abraxas Malfoy had approached her with a request to save his squib daughter's magic; a difficult task, but after two days she had succeeded. She had been saving the flowers for something special in the future… but this felt like the right time.

Analise crumbled the dried blossoms into a stone bowl, using another stone tool to crush them into a fine powder. After a few minutes of persistent grinding, she was finally satisfied with her work. Carefully, she grabbed a small silver dagger from her pocket. The hilt was ornate and decorated with hundreds of tiny jewels that swirled in twisting patterns. The dagger had been passed down by the women of her family for as long as anyone knew, but the silver never tarnished. Analise relied on it, it was almost as important to her as her wand.

Holding her palm carefully over the bowl of crushed flowers, she drew her dagger across her palm creating a shallow wound. It wept blood into the bowl below. She waited until the powder was completely submerged in her blood before sealing the wound with a quickly muttered spell.

Analise took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. She looked to the horizon, seeing the sun exactly where it should be. It had finally sunk completely below the horizon, the last dregs of light quickly disappearing. She nodded decisively and began her chant.

The words probably would not have been intelligible to any onlookers. Analise had learnt this tongue from her great-grandmother, who had learnt it from her own great grandmother. And so it had been for centuries, the gifts of the ancient language skipping over two entire generations with every pass. She had been lucky to receive it, the gift differentiated her from other high priestesses and made her powerful. It made all the difference.

And so, the woman sat with the bowl cupped between her hands, chanting the ancient words.

As the last of the light faded from the sky a crystal grew in the bowl nested between Analise' cupped hands. It was a strange and fibrous looking thing, with many branches of twisting purple and orange filaments reaching up and out. When the last of the light left the sky the crystal stopped growing, and Analise stopped chanting. If she was surprised by what had grown in the bowl, she didn't show it. She did not even stop to admire it. Without a second thought she whispered another chant, though this time in a language relatively more recent. "Incendium" the old witch intoned. It was a slightly altered, ritualistic, variation of the popular incendio spell.

Instantly, the crystal responded by exploding into a thick grey smoke. Analise inhaled deeply, taking the magic of the thing into her lungs. The smoke filled the room with a slight haze as it spread out to fill the dome. The priestess kept inhaling, and before long the smoke had cleared entirely, the only indication it had ever been there at was the slight scent of copper with off-putting floral notes.

Analise rose from the floor and walked calmly to her usual chair perched on the edge of the solarium, and settled in to watch the skies. When she sat, a house elf wordlessly popped in and deposited a tea tray beside her. The teacup was already filled with a healthy amount of the steaming liquid.

Analise took a long draw from the cup and sighed in contentment; the of chamomile, rosebuds, and lavender soothing her.

She sat in the chair for an hour before the show started. Her vision flickered in and out of focus a few times when it all began and the smoke began to seize her senses. Arktos Megale and Mikra—the bears—blazed alive in the sky, with Helice and Cynosura flaring the brightest, appearing almost green in the inky blackness of the sky.

Lower in the sky, Aquila, mysteriously absent all month, flared back. While Helice and Cynosura were tinted green, the stars of Aquila blazed green like nothing Analise had seen before. The stars seemed to light the entire sky, casting green light into the solarium. Yes, Analise had definitely selected the right ingredients for tonight's ritual, to be able to see the sky's magic so clearly.

Analise sat beneath the stars for hours that night, watching as the colour and intensities of the stars and constellations flickered, flared, and changed. She understood. Finally, she understood what the skies were trying to tell her. Hours later, just as the newly returned Aquila began to fade before morning, a meteor streaked through the sky radiating a halo of green light around it, passing along the line of Aquila's spine before disappearing behind the horizon.

Someone was coming. Somebody born of the stars. And they would be arriving the next night.

-o-

July 31st was a strange day. The air hung heavy all over the British Isles, every moment aching with tension. It was like something was about to happen and the world was just waiting for a string to break, a twig to snap, or a raindrop to fall before all hell broke loose.

Children were cross all day, throwing tantrums and yelling at their parents and one another. Birds refused to sing, choosing instead to hide within their nests of flitter around looking for more materials to keep their nests safe, warm, and dry. Several duels had even broken out in Diagon Alley.

Albus Dumbledore, Minister for Magic, was one such agitated wizard. He had spent the morning pacing in his office, and the afternoon yelling at incompetent underlings. By the time he left the ministry the winds were beginning to pick up and the blackest clouds he had had ever seen hard started to occlude the sky.

When the old wizard arrived at home, he did not fare any better. His dinner was served cold, for which he had to punish the young elf responsible. Worse yet, his dinner had left him feeling ill. After dinner he had tried to read but fell quickly fell into a fitful sleep, only to wake in a cold sweat near midnight after a particularly loud clap of thunder.

Rain and wind beat against the larges windows of the man's sitting room as he came to his senses. It was quite the storm outside, and Albus was quite pleased that he would not need to leave home tonight.

Across the room on his writing desk an old barn owl hooted, quickly drawing the old man's attention. The owl was soaked, a house elf must have let it in. In a basket on his desk sat a new letter sealed with yellow wax. Dumbledore stared at the letter for a moment before he was jolted into action; his network frequently relied on coloured wax seals; this one meant it was an emergency.

The old man sped over to the desk as fast as his aged body would let him, breaking the seal and opening the letter before even bothering to sit down. The letter was short, only a single line long without any pleasantries or signatures, it simply read "Albus, Lilly is in labour. Something is wrong. Help." Albus didn't need to recognize James Potter's messy scrawl to know who the letter was from.

His mind swam; a little overwhelmed with the situation, but the man quickly righted himself, making a beeline for the cloak room. Without pausing for a moment the man slipped into a long black cloak and apparated with a sharp crack, leaving the house in silence.

Barely a moment later, the old man found himself quite a way further north than he liked. The wind howled like it never had before. Albus Dumbledore was over a century old but he had never witnessed a storm the likes of this. He struggled against the rain and winds as he made his way down a cobblestone road toward the Potter's home; their wards prevented anyone from apparating anywhere near the estate. The road winded up along the side of a small mountain, and with dense forest on either side of its steep slope. It was incredibly dark, but the old wizard had his wand lit as he fought his way forward through the rain, wind, and flying detritus.

Lightning began to split the sky above with great unforgiving spasms of light and sound. The bolts momentarily illuminated the path ahead of him, allowing him to finally see his target. The old wizard was well and truly soaked to the bone, but just another few minutes battling the storm and he would be there. Dumbledore hastened his pace, travelling now at a near run; there were many things Wizards could survive that non-magical folk could not, but a lightning strike in a storm like this was not on that list. He had survived many things, but he didn't want to test his luck on a storm, of all things.

The drowned wizard heaved for breath as he forced his old frame forward and to perform feats he had not for decades. His beard was plastered to his neck and clothes, heavy with water and the odd twig or leaf. His brightly robed and cloak stuck to his skin claustrophobically, allowing the wind to chill his skin even faster. He left in such a haste that he did not even have the comfort of a warming charm.

Finally, the large copper gates and brownstone walls that guarded the large estate were visible ahead of him - the top of the gates cresting and twisting together to form a large decorative hippogriff that stood guard; the immortal crest of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter.

Dumbledore stared at the gates for a moment before shaking at them slightly - they were not opening for him as they normally would; it was most peculiar indeed. James had long welcomed him at his family's ancestral home, and he had never had trouble with the gates before. In fact, on this very occasion he had rushed here to help them. The old man was a sorry sight to behold, standing in the storm of the century soaked to the bone, barely able to catch his breath.

Just as he was about to send a patronus with a message that he had arrived, a carriage barreled up the trail behind him pulled by two copper coloured hippogriffs similar to the one immortalized as the Potter crest on the estate's gates. The carriage did not appear to be driven by anyone, though they rarely were in the magical world. The carriage paid him no heed, its occupants were likely not paying attention, expecting a clear path, and the hippogriffs… well who knew with those beasts. He had nearly lost a finger to one years ago; it had been quite the challenge to get it back from the hippogriff, and the healers had a tricky time reattaching it; his right pinky had never been the same since.

The gates opened seamlessly for the carriage, allowing Dumbledore enough time to scamper in behind it. The wards didn't reject him as he carried on down the trail in his half-run, but the thunder did grow louder, the lightening brighter, the rain heavier, and the wind wilder as soon as he crossed the threshold onto the estate.

By the time Dumbledore had reached the receiving hall of the estate the guests who were carried by the carriage had already made their way through the ancient home. Dumbledore remembered seeing light blazing from the windows of one of the larger rooms in the upper floors and so he made his way toward the room. The estate creaked dangerously in the wind, and he would swear he could see the windows bowling in slightly with each gust of wind. He shivered, and let the anxiety push him forward as he ran up the stairs much too briskly for a man of his age.

As he got closer to the room, he could finally hear what he had been called for; Lily Potter was in labour; and it did not sound good.

-o-

After composing himself and making himself presentable, Dumbledore walked into a room that was already quite full of the Potter's friends and loved ones. The room's occupants were deathly quiet, that being said the sounds of the storm could barely noticed. Lily was the focus of the entire room; she was heavily pregnant and whimpering incoherently. Her forehead shined with a thick coat of sweat and her hair was plastered over her face and neck. The dress she was wearing was soaked, but Dumbledore couldn't guess at which fluids soaked the beautiful garment. Her breathing was deep and ragged and her skin even more pale than usual. But she was too exhausted to scream anymore, so whimpers were all that escaped her cracked and bloody lips. Lily Potter was giving birth, and it appeared that it might be her final act.

Rain and wind beat against the windowpanes, definitely bowling the glass inward slightly this time–just enough to make the inhabitants of the large wooden manor home wary. They could fix the window easily enough with a charm or two, but that didn't lessen the threat—or the omen. Thunder crashed above them, quickly following the lightning strikes that struck down century old trees that dotted the land. The rain and wind were too extreme for anything to burn, but the lightening was enough to bring the trees crashing to the ground.

Frank and Alice Longbottom stood in one corner of the room. Alice herself had only just given birth hours ago, but she'd had an easy birth. The kind looking couple stood at Lilly's head, watching her with worried eyes. Alice was doing her best to mop up the sweat and saliva coating her friend's face every few moments.

Frank stood immobilized. He was horrified, watching his best friend plead and beg for the life of his wife and the babe she was to bring into this world. He cursed the Gods that he was unable to do anything, and that the couple could not share the blessing of an easy birth he and his wife had experienced.

A man with red hair, barely seventeen, stood in front of the large picture window that threatened to crash in around him. He was scanning the grounds with an eagle-like focus for any possible signs of danger. A single fang earring protruded through his left earlobe, barely visible through his untamed orange hair. Several scars already decorated his young face. He turned and met Dumbledore's eyes as the old man entered the room, but the young man did not nod or smile in greeting to the man; no, both Charlie and his brother Bill had never been fans of Albus Dumbledore.

Sirius stood in the far corner behind James, shadows hanging over his face cast by his gaunt features. His eyes shone with worry and were haunted by some unspoken sadness. He was worried. It would be unfair that a babe would have to be brought into this world without a mother, and the mere shadow of a father it could have had if its mother had lived. Sirius remembered the loss of his own child, and lover, holding back tears. This was not the time to remember the tragedy he had gone through himself, though the similarities of their two situations were already startling. Remus Lupin stood at his best friend's side watching the room's going-ons with a vacant expression.

The entire manor shook with the latest gust of wind. The glass enclosing the various candles and lanterns that lit the room vibrated. Strange tinkling and rattling sounds filled the room that could have been mistaken as signs of the manor itself being nervous. They were quickly drowned out by a loud but clearly distant bang, likely something from the grounds had taken wing upon the storm's gusts and struck the manor. It was neither the first or last of its kind that night.

Albus' presence in the room was soon noticed. "Thank goodness Albus you are here. She still has a chance, but we have to intervene immediately." Said a young diligent woman who dared to speak while knelt between the red head's spread legs. Her arms were coated in blood, reaching up as far as her elbows. The old wizard simply nodded in response, a grimace decorating his face as he stood over the group - most of which were now looking at him for help and guidance.

At the head of the red head's bed were her husband, and closest friend. James held her hands as if he was ready and willing to physically pull her back from death at a moment's notice. He uselessly muttered kind and pleading words into her ear "Lils… Lils you cannot leave me. Lils I need you…" He barely spoke, but still everyone in the room could hear his pleading. Beside him, his wife's best friend stood unable to look at her struggling friend. Her body wracking with silent sobs.

"The purple one Alice – give her the purple one" the determined mediwitch barked, she left no question in her tone and the emergency of the situation was clear.

Alice wasted no time in guiding a vial with a thin purple liquid between her best friend's lips.

They continued this way for some time, the residents of the room were quiet, acting as a stoic guard, as Dumbledore and the young mediwitch cast spells on Lily and directed people to feed her various potions.

"Fight the darkness Lily, you have the power within you to overcome this." Dumbledore said sternly, his voice was crystal clear and unwavering, but his face was that of a wizard in agony, watching one of his most loyal followers and closest friends battle for her life and that of her unborn child.

Not long after Albus's words Lily's breathing became increasingly laboured – coming in long and deep shuddering gasps. Her eyes regained a life to them as if she were aware of her surroundings once more. The storm calmed for just a moment, teasing that it would be over just as quickly as it had started. Everyone in the room stood in silence before a loud wailing cry could be heard breaking their silence.

Lily's stricken face twisted into the happiest of smiles at the sound, the baby's wails making it through to her barely conscious mind. Her hollow looking eyes focused just enough to stare at the light she had brought into the world, her son.

"Jamieson" her cracked lips croaked out the name before they broke into an exuberant smile. The babe was cleaned and handed to Albus immediately. It would have to wait to be examined by the medi-witch; the baby's mother was closer to losing her life. Despite the miracles magic could produce childbirth was rarely ever easy. Albus looked over the babe quickly, probing its aura and cast a few spells over it. He was relieved that the child felt as any other respectable newborn might, he was pure and of the light. Dumbledore hummed a happy tune at the child and focused on wrapping the boy in a soft blue blanket before handing him off to his father.

James coddled the babe in his arms, kneeling close so that Lily could greet the new life she had brought into the world. She cooed at the boy as she started to doze off – slipping away to rest. A reddish-brown tuft of hair and deep brown eyes were all that could be seen of the babe as his parents snuggled him between them.

The healer however was not resting; she began worrying. Lily's bleeding hadn't slowed down at all, if anything it had increased. There was no sign of afterbirth… In fact, all the typical signs indicated a second child was on the way. Lily remained dilated. Contractions continued. She frowned, she was not told to expect a second babe – and her scans did not indicate there would be a second child. Twins she thought – they must be twins. "But how?" She whispered under her breath.

Dumbledore was caught off guard by the healer's words, and turned just in time to be assaulted with a wave of magic so exotic and foreign to him it nearly took his breath away. No one else in the room was so attuned to magic as he was, likely because of his raw magical strength and experience. Dumbledore's face developed hard creases as he scrutinized the mediwitch who was preparing for a second birth; he did not know what to make of the situation, but he did not like it.

Suddenly the storm returned with a vengeance. The wind whipped at the manor in a frenzy, tearing at the walls as if it was trying to force its way inside. Lightning flashed over and over again, closer to the manor each time. It illuminated the room in a ghostly glow. The skies opened up and from them poured rain, the likes of which has not been seen in centuries.

And that was when Lily Potter was dragged from her nearly unconscious state, sitting up slightly. Her eyes shot open, and from her mouth came an otherworldly scream. Her mouth could form no words. Her newborn son began to wail under his father's careful guard. But her scream continued, her eyes bulging nearly out of her head, ghostly shadows hanging over her wet face from the lightning

The mediwitch leaned in again, and prepared herself to assist the second babe's departure from its mother. She was prepared for a battle; births like these had never been easy and Lily wasn't exactly the ideal candidate for birth mother. As she braced herself for a battle against nature the babe surprised her.

He passed from his mother as if propelled, though still gently enough for the mediwitch to catch him. With his exit came a truly guttural scream from his mother. Blood gushed from the birth canal, bathing the child in his mother's life. Her screams only intensified, as if the babe had torn part of her with him as he entered the world.

"Another boy" Dumbledore muttered, but his words went unheard over the raging storm.

Lily's mouth began to form a sound, some part of a word, before her consciousness abruptly left her. Her face remained twisted in a truly fearful – disgusted position as her eyes lulled shut and she fell back against the birthing table. The mediwitch got to work quickly casting more powerful spells on Lily that would have been unsafe had the woman still be pregnant. It wasn't long before she had done all she could do, and she turned her attention back to the second infant.

Carefully she washed his mother's blood off of the child. The babe was strangely thin, his skin was almost translucent, the colour of moonlight. He had almost a whole head of black hair, still wet with afterbirth and blood. He already looked elegant, pureblood features gracing his physique; truthfully he looked nothing like his brother. The mediwitch held her breath.

Everyone in the room waited with baited-breath to hear the babe cry, signalling to everyone it was alive and well, but the babe did not cry. He stared up at the mediwitch with his large luminescent emerald green eyes, unheard of for an infant, but he did not cry. He did not fuss. He barely moved, if only to seek some form of comfort. It was as if, almost impossibly, the child had decided the storm outside was enough of a fuss to make upon his entry into the world.

The wind continued to howl, and the lightning continued outside, each flash bringing with it thunder that shook the house to its foundation.

The babe shut his eyes, and just like that with one great and final flash of lightening that burned the eyes of all who looked, the storm was over. The howling winds died down, the rains finally recessed, and the air hung eerily still as if lightning could crack through and shatter the peace it had left at any moment – but it would not. Not tonight.

The scarred young man with orange hair paused from his protective vigil over the Potter estate to lay eyes on the youngest son of Lily and James Potter. His deathly pale face was calm, his body looked too thin and too elegant for someone so young. He had very little baby fat but somehow he managed to not appear sickly, just odd. Charlie watched on as the mediwitch fussed over the boy. Casting various diagnostic spells, measuring this and that. James remained by Lily's side, staring transfixed at his own first born son – a spitting image of his own father aside from what would likely be Lily's red hair.

Sirius had joined the mediwitch in doting on the youngest of the two children. He conjured a deep forest green blanket to wrap him in – they were unprepared for a second child and improvisation would have to do.

The mediwitch continued her diagnostics, checking the babe over. He did not appear ill, but she had to be sure. The babe was certainly not normal, and for the world and his mother to react in such a way upon his birth… If anyone asked her she would swear that she did not believe in omens, she was not a superstitious woman at all, but she was sure that this babe was special – he needed the utmost care.

"Albus… I'd like for you to check the boy's magic over. From all my inspections the child does not seem ill – but he's far too… " she struggled looking for a word "… bizarre to not take precautions, and then considering the storm…" her voice trailed off. The Mediwitch laid the boy down on a high table that had originally held supplies for the delivery. The boy simply sighed and fidgeted a little in a light sleep.

"Of course – it would be my pleasure." Albus focused hard on not rolling his eyes. These people were so superstitious. Believing in their false Gods – it was a storm, it meant nothing and the babe was a little slim – so what? But he had to admit, the magic he felt when the child had entered the world was quite unusual… He swept over to the table and looked down on the child. He felt a nagging tug in his stomach – this child… something was indeed off about him. Albus pushed that away and focused on the boy, touching both his index fingers to opposite sides of the child's head.

Albus recoiled instantly as if he had been bitten. He was shaken to the very core. Perhaps the storm did mean something…? No. He dashed the thought in an instant, he could no longer believe in the Gods. Would no longer place any faith in them.

"Good heavens Albus what is it?" The mediwitch stared at the man waiting for her answer.

Albus had to think quickly. The boy was dark. Dark and powerful, more so than he cared to imagine. He dared not imagine what this boy could become should he live to his inheritance. He dared not contemplate what this boy could mean for their world, his world.

"I'm afraid the child is gravely ill Andy". Dumbledore coached his face into a solemn appearance. He bowed his head and folded his hands before he spoke again. The child was sick, sick and twisted with a magic that was untamed and refused to bow. "The boy has disharmonious magic – his magic is attacking him from within." Albus coached his face into a tight grimace and recited what he knew about the disorder from the book he had read centuries ago. "It is much like the auto-immune diseases that the muggles have been struggling with – except only in this case it is the magic is attacking the body, not the body attacking itself."

Many of the adults in the room gasped at such news. Such a disorder was extremely dangerous and extremely rare, so rare that some believed it did not actually exist. The only other recorded disharmonious core in centuries had actually been Sirius's only child. For such a tragedy to happen twice so recently… and to strike two close friends; it was unthinkable.

Sirius' daughter had been born on a quiet summer night two years ago in a room not unlike the one they were currently in. Dumbledore was present, and in tandem with Madam Pomfrey, had revealed that the little girl's core would destroy her within a month.

And the disease had destroyed her, almost taking Sirius and his extended family, and the inner circle of the Order of the Phoenix with her. It had been a great burden on all of them to watch her die, trying to save her from herself.

All the adults in the room came to a hushed silence echoing their despair. They would have to endure that horror again.

Dumbledore inhaled deeply, looking down at the child before he began speaking again. "I'm afraid the child does not have long… he is far more powerful than Urs-". James' wails of sorrow cut him off before he could finish, but they all knew the little girl's name all too well. Ursula.

Sirius left the room in a haste, hiding his face from everyone. No one followed him, knowing that he needed to be alone but Charlie Weasley's eyes trailed the man as he left - he was unable to leave his post, as he was obligated to guard over these births by his family's magic, and oath, to the Potters. Sirius could never bear the thought of his daughter; the sorrow of his daughter's loss had once consumed him; he had somehow emerged from it but his lover had not been so lucky.

No one questioned why he had left.

Remus was the first to speak after that.

"There's nothing that can be done Albus?" The grizzled werewolf looked at his mentor expectantly.

"You know the child cannot be saved Remus." The man paused. "To prolong his suffering would be cruel. The humane thing to do, the light thing to do, would be to allow him Godric's rights".

Several of the adults in the room gasped while the scarred orange haired man looked confused, verging on furious. "That is an antiquated and barbaric ritual Dumbledore! The child would stand no chance at all! And in these forests no less!?" Charlie marched over to the table, standing protectively over the child.

"Even now his magic erodes his life Charlie." Dumbledore's eyes burrowed into the red head's own, his face the perfect mask of grandfatherly concern and aged commander.

"At least this way he still has a chance – and if not, it will be quick." The mediwitch's voice died and she shaped the last words. She had been uncharacteristically silent until this point, having originally been consumed by sorrow like the other adults in the room. It was not easy to hear the news that a child you had just helped bring into the world and entered it with such an early death sentence already hanging over its head.

"It is decided then, we must do the compassionate thing" Albus pronounced. James did not protest, his body wracked with sobs as he clung to his unconscious wife and firstborn.

Dumbledore took the child into his arms. Even now, without using the sight, he could feel the wildness of this child's magic. Yes, this was the best thing to do. He must do it for the greater good. Dumbledore pushed forward, walking at a steady pace through the manor and out into the grounds, and then the forest surrounding the manor. Behind him walked Charlie, Poppy, Alice, and her husband Frank. The Longbottoms continued to stand as witness for their best friends, the Potters, while Charlie and Poppy had followed out of respect for the child.

Dumbledore stopped walking when they could no longer see the lights of the Manor. The air hung eerily still, it was heavy with moisture and edged on the side of unstable. He laid the child down under a large canopy of overgrown cypress trees.

Albus bowed his head, feigning respect and sadness for the activity at hand. "Goodbye, youngest of the Potters. It is with sorrow that we release you back to lady magic and her sisters, night and wild. May they guide you through the night on your journey – and should our paths in life cross once more and we come to conflict, should the fates will it so, then my debt to you shall be paid with my mortal soul."

The old wizard recited the words carefully, he remembered them all clearly from the old tome he had read. He placed no stock in them, the old Gods, fates. He knew it all to be nonsense.

Yet those around him found comfort in that nonsense, so a valuable tool it made.

The child's eyes flashed open as soon as Dumbledore finished the ritualistic words. He didn't make any noises, or move. He just silently watched his would-be funeral procession and executioner.

Dumbledore and the healer turned to leave, their hearts heavy, leaving the child in the copse of cypress trees. Charlie however did not turn around with them. He had made an oath to guard this child, and guard him he would. Something could be done, something had to be done.

Nobody had noticed the bird that sat in the trees, watching everything that happened that night. Perhaps they had not cared to notice. And unbeknownst to Charlie he was not the only one guarding this child.

**A/N:  
**"Godric's rights" is a reference to infanticide, which has been a common practice in many cultures. I'm not endorsing infanticide, just depicting a conception of it. Hope you enjoyed; would love to hear your thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Within the Darkness Between the Stars**

A regal bird ruffled its feathers in annoyance as the old whitened wizard departed the copse of trees. The bird's distaste for the man was obvious. Once the coast was clear and the light wizard was gone, the bird gracefully swooped down to land next to the child that had been abandoned there by the old man. The bird's black feathers, accentuated with shades of dark green, made for excellent camouflage in the dampened forest.

The child gurgled at the bird, reaching to grab at its beautiful feathers. His large emerald eyes sparkled with joy for the first time at the sight of something so beautiful.

The bird ruffled again, making an odd chirp that sounded like laughter. It kept his distance from the small child, only staying close enough to ensure its safety. It was not really sure what had motivated the old whitened wizard to bring a child such as thine one to such a place and abandon it, but it could sense that this was not the child's fate. And the bird would be damned if it allowed fate to go awry.

It didn't take long until the regal bird could hear something, or somebody, moving through the brush. He squat into a defensive position, ready to fulfill its obligation and protect the child if need be.

As the large rustling thing got closer, it became clear to the bird that it was in fact a wizard, a tall slim man with all the "right" features, similar in fact to the very ones the child possessed. He just had a good feeling about this person. The bird fluttered back up to the high branches of the strongest cypress tree and watched, its dark green eyes taking in everything, not completely trusting the new arrival despite itself.

"Oh what did bloody old fool do to you, little one." Sirius's curly black hair was a dampened mess from his trek through the soaked forest. Anger danced in the man's eyes as he continued forward through the brush, but his anger was dampened by the deep concern that he felt for the babe. He continued to move through the dense branches, moving closer to small clear area with every step.

And before long, Sirius had found his target. "Sweet merlin, thank the fates I've found you" the dark man said under his breath. He reached down and picked up the child, who blinked up at him with his bright emerald orbs. The babe did not make a noise, or fuss. He just continued to look up at his saviour blinking slowly and sleepily, if not a bit curiously.

"You must be bloody freezing. Blimey that old coot is such a bastard" the wizard muttered as he took off his own robe to wrap around the child. His jacket underneath his robes was thin and expensive and not at all suitable to the weather. He was already cold, but he didn't care; some things were more important than comfort.

He continued walking through the forest, coddling the babe close to his chest. The wind whistled through the trees around them making eerie noises that seemed to echo through the forest somehow. He had been walking for quite some time now, but as he progressed the forest grew less and less dense.

"I know the wards end around here somewhere…" the dark man muttered to the babe, as if he could understand. Luckily it didn't take long for the man to feel the difference in the air as he left the complex ancestral wards of the Potter estate. He had made good time on his trek through the forest, and he didn't think that Dumbledore had caught on to what he was doing; it did not seem as if he was being followed at least. What Sirius didn't notice, however, was the large black bird that hopped from branch to branch following them.

"Don't worry kid, you will never have to see those people ever again… and we'll get our revenge against that old bastard, I promise." He knew there was no way the child could understand him, but he tried to speak soothingly to the child anyway, not even cognisant of his foul language—his grandmother would have hexed him three ways by now.

Sirius's clothes were torn from the walk through the dense forest, and there were twigs in his hair. His body wracked with shivers as the cold wind bit into his soaked clothes—warming charms were useful, but they could only do so much when you were soaked to the bone. At least the baby was warm; he was Sirius's only concern tonight; he has saved the boy's life, his comfort and his jacket were a small price to pay in comparison.

Now that he was safely outside the wards, Sirius reached under his shirt and pulled out a large and shining black coloured pendant hanging around his neck on a silver chain. With a deep breath he held the child tightly to his chest and muttered the words of his forefathers. "Toujours pur." Just like that, where they once stood there was nothing.

The large black bird crooned loudly, looked toward the Potter's home, and flew south. If the bird was confused, or annoyed, it didn't show it.

An instant later, Sirius landed in the receiving hall of his ancestral home; Blackweald. He had lived in the large manor home his entire life, until just a few years ago when he had gotten into a fight with his parents. They had demanded that he discontinue his friendship with those "bloodtraitors and muggle loving fools." Sirius had tried to get his grandfather, Arcturus, to reverse his parent's decision, but Arcturus refused noting he had his own problems with Sirius' choice of friends—though his problems were not the same as those expressed by his parents. Sirius had promptly left home after that, and had never set foot inside since.

Before Sirius even had a chance to register his surroundings he was verbally assaulted by his mother's favourite house elf. "Master blood traitor was told never to –" the old house elf was silenced by a quick wave of Sirius's wand. He was not in the mood for the mad old elf's nonsense.

"Krasus, bugger off go and fetch Lord Black, my grandfather." Sirius' voice was sharp as he commanded the old house elf, he was sure to tack on his relation to the lord of the family just to remind Krasus what would happen if the elf refused him. The elf stared back at the man, hate bubbling under the surface of his tarnished yellow eyes. "Now!" Sirius spat at the gnarled old elf, his own eyes sparkling with just as much barely contained rage. Unable to disobey the order, the elf begrudgingly popped out of the room.

Sirius exhaled deeply as he sat down on the over-elegant furniture that was positioned around the large receiving hall. The chairs were all made of dark wood with soft and plush silver coloured upholstery; they were new to the receiving hall, but they were probably centuries old knowing his grandmother, she had always a taste for the traditional.

Tapestries hung around the walls depicting the great deeds of his ancestors. Most notable were those of Lord Polaris Black, an infamous dark lord who lived centuries ago, and Lord Vega Black his ancestor that was one of the seven original founding lords of the Wizengamot over a dozen centuries ago; Vega himself had built much of this very manor. Many other tapestries adorned the shining and dark coloured stone blocks that composed the entrance hall. There was even a small tapestry for Phineas Nigellus Black, a recent headmaster of Hogwarts. The very top of the large cylindrical receiving hall was a glass dome. Normally it would allow starlight to filter into the room or flood the hall with daylight. But tonight, the hall was lit only but a few ever-burning candles positioned in sconces around the room; it was darker than he had ever seen it, a mark of the storm that had only recently calmed.

Sirius fussed over the babe for just a second, making sure that he was dry and fully covered by the conjured green blanket and his robe. He was just resuming his elegant posture when he heard footsteps echoing into the hall.

"Returned home a beggar, have you boy?" A tall and elegant woman stood over him on a balcony, just in front of the grand archway that led further into the house. She wasn't particularly beautiful though she did possess enough pureblood features to be a worthy wife to the house she had married into. She held a sneer on her face and her arms were crossed, the long sleeves of her dress hanging almost to the floor. She was clearly disgusted by his rather ruffled and banged up appearance.

"Hullo mother" Sirius responded blankly. "I see you have not aged a day." Sirius' lips curled into a mischievous smirk – he had not seen the woman since she had banished him, and she had not aged well at all.

The babe he held however had picked that moment of all times to stir, moving his legs and arms slightly, and making gurgling noises.

His mother's eyes came alive with a strange light. "What's that you've got there? Some bastard spawn you've conjured up with a mudblood or blood traitor no doubt." His mother's face had darkened into a sneer.

Before his mother could continue, or he could react, the house elf appeared in the room again with a thick black woolen blanket, and a warm bottle of milk "For the little Lord" Krasus muttered as he passed both items to Sirius roughly, but with a solemn bow.

Sirius's would have refused the items if he hadn't known that the Black family's house elves. He didn't trust that evil and twisted little elf for a moment, but like all others, the elf was bound by an oath not to harm children.

Sirius fussed over the child again and wrapped him more securely in the dry new blanket. It was much warmer, and Sirius could tell that the child was more comfortable. He placed the bottle to the babe's lips and the child began to suck; his first meal.

Sirius' mother stood surprised at the actions of her favourite house elf. "Krasus!" she spat. I thought I told you that this filth was not heir of our house, you are not to serve on him or any of his filthy progeny – just as you were forbidden to serve the the progeny of that filthy lover he had.

Any response that elf could have made was cut off by Sirius' harsh and angry tone. "I'll have you know mother, that Elisabeth was not a mudblood, she was a highly esteemed charm's master and the daughter of house of D—"

"Yes, yes. Mudblood, toad. All the same if you ask me. Both live in filth and squalor and are unfit for our presence!" his mother's acidic response cut him off before he could finish. Her face had not untwisted from the ugly sneer it had formed into when she saw her oldest child; if Sirius was being honest it was the only expression he had seen on her face for years; it was how he imagined her when he closed his eyes.

"Oh come now Walburga, you're such a bitter soul. There are many French houses as pure as ours. My own house, for example, originated in France. In fact, the Blacks were once French in many ways, for a time at least! Of course, the Blacks do not originate from France, but their culture has seen enormous interchange with ours – or have you been too dense to notice that our house words are themselves French!" Sirius grinned at his grandmother's appearance, and the way she had swiftly dealt with his bitch of a mother. She had a talent for shutting his mother down quickly. He always had liked the woman, and was glad to be reminded why.

His mother sputtered in embarrassment at being reprimanded by her mother in law. She turned a particularly unsightly shade of pink and bowed her head low. "Y-Yes of course Analise, my apologies to you and your family."

"Yes, it is about time that you apologize to this family for being such an embarrassment." Analise sighed warily and cast a pitying glance in the caustic woman's direction. "Now, be gone with you, silly woman. Do not let me see you again unless I specifically call for you!" Sirius's grandmother intentionally used her French accent that had been practiced out of her many years ago. Sirius watched in amusement as his mother skittered away like a beaten dog into one of the many the darkened halls of the Black ancestral home.

"Sirius, dear." His grandmother walked further into the room and he raised to meet her at the bottom of the stairs. She stroked his cheek fondly. "A pleasure. You've brought a child I see?... Though not your own I presume?" Sirius' grandmother was an incredibly tall woman, just an inch shy of his grandfather. She stood over him as an imposing figure but she wore a kind face and had a kinder heart. He had always been very fond of the woman, and the feeling was mutual.

"No Gran, he's not mine. He was abandoned because of Dumbledore. Abandoned to Godric's rights for Merlin's sake." Sirius spat the last words as if they were a deadly curse.

Analise's face darkened immediately, and it scrunched as if she had been presented a plate of rotten meat. "What an antiquated practice. There simply are not enough people of magical blood to go tossing out infants like that. Good heavens whatever was that man thinking… The cruelty. What a despicable creature." Sirius remained silent the entire time, letting his verbose grandmother finish her rant. "… Perhaps Dumbledore's mother should have left him out for the birds, Gods know that ruddy flaming chicken of his is awfully scrawny."

"I agree Gran, that phoenix has seen better days" Sirius replied, trying to distract his grandmother from her tirade.

"Yes of course of course. Do excuse me, I am a bit… excitable tonight." The woman took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, clearly letting some of the tension leave her body. Sirius, when did you say that this child born? A few days ago I presume?"

"I hadn't. This is the youngest son of James Potter, he was born several hours ago. Dumbledore was quite prompt in his declaration that the boy's 'core' is unstable." Sirius spat the last words, you could almost see the venom on his lips.

Sirius' gran began tutting her lips and shaking her head. She leaned over to take the babe from Sirius and began again. "What utter nonsense, what a monster of a man, oh my. Something will have to be done! Left for the birds and the poor child is but hours old! And to be born amidst a storm such as this! Whatever was –" her speech drifted off as she looked down and met the child's bright emerald eyes.

"And that, my child, is interesting…" Her voice drifted off, eyes staring into some time and place long gone, she swayed slowly from side to side as if she was dancing to some unheard music.

"Gran… Gran are you alright?" Sirius watched his grandmother carefully as she continued to sway slowly to some unheard music. Sirius reached out nervously, ready to snatch the child away from his swaying grandmother.

"Yes. Yes of course I am Sirius." His grandmother's eyes suddenly became clearer and more focused as she snapped back into the present. She fussed over the babe some more before carefully passing the child back to him. "I presume you're here to see your Grandfather? I'll go have a word with him myself, and then fetch him, it should not take long. Hold tight Sirius, make sure you feed the boy more. He's been through enough stress already." She was barely able to tear her warm brown eyes away from the child.

Sirius didn't respond to his grandmother's admonishments. He knew that this was how she showed her affection – he was just pleased that she hadn't thrown him and the child out, his mother certainly would have. He settled back into a chair and cradled the newborn carefully in his arms, rocking it back and forth ever so carefully.

-o-

Some time later Sirius was ushered down the hall into his Grandfather's study. The room was guarded by a polished black door that was accented with silver. There was no knob on the door, simply a silver plaque on the outside. The door opened quickly for him revealing the ornate, but still somehow welcoming, study that his grandfather spent a considerable amount of time in. The back wall was covered mostly in portraits of previous lord Black's but he knew the walls on either side of him were composed of bookshelves built into the walls themselves. Old tomes were packed tightly into them, their spines revealing their ages and the contents that lay within, at least in the case of those he was capable of reading; the books were written in dozens of languages, several of which were very ancient or nearly forgotten.

"Sirius I have to apologize that I made you wait so long. I was in a business meeting with Lord Bones when you first arrived and I had made specific instructions not to be disturbed unless it was ordered by the Wizengamot. Important business you see." Arcturus Black sat in a high-backed throne like chair behind a large similarly ornate desk made of a particularly dark wood. Directly behind his grandfather he recognized a portrait of his great grandfather, who snoozed quietly in the frame. He had died when Sirius was just a boy but had retired many years prior to that.

"The apologies are mine, Lord Black. I ask your forgiveness for turning up unannounced, but the situation was most dire." Sirius waved his wand combining the two elegant but decidedly uncomfortable chairs that sat before his Grandfather's desk into one overstuffed but still noble-looking chair. He was careful not to disturb the baby he carried, who was now sleeping.

Arcturus stared at Sirius for few moments before reacting. The boy had aged into a man. He had always regretted allowing the boy's mother to banish him. Sirius was the most sensible child born his house in decades. The old man let out a soft sigh. "Nonsense Sirius, nonsense. And call me Grandfather, you are part of the family despite the wishes of your darling mother." He paused for a brief moment, and his somber face broke into a playful smile. "To hell with formalities anyway, you've always been my favourite grandchild."

"Yes, old pops did have poor taste in women, didn't he? And how are my cousins? Well I hope?" Sirius muttered the last part.

His grandfather's eyes sparkled. "Cousin Narcissa is well, she recently gave birth to a young boy named Draco. Belatrix however… well she much too fond of your mother. She made quite the impression on Lady Bones the other day." His grandfather's speech faded off warily; clearly still angry with the woman.

"I presume this conversation is one that will require a drink, is it not?" The wizened old man reached into one of the many drawers of his desk and pulled out a tall bottle of amber liquid. He poured large portions into both glasses, and handed one to Sirius before quickly summoning a regal-looking bassinet for as-of-yet-unaddressed baby.

"Sirius nodded and put the too-calm child inside the bassinet. He had not fussed at all since he had been fed. His large green eyes flickered for a moment before closing once more.

A few moments passed while the men sat in silence, nursing their glasses. It was Arcturus who finally broke the silence. "Whose is he?" he asked, his tone quiet, calm, and protective.

"Was." Sirius corrected. "Whose was he."

"I did not want to be presumptuous about the situation, you have my apologi-" The older of the two black haired men did not get a chance to finish speaking before the younger waved him off.

"Who would want to presume such a dreadful thing". Sirius' voice grew quieter and colder as he thought of how this had happened.

Both men took long sips of the vibrantly coloured whiskey they held.

"He was born to the Potters" Sirius began speaking, in a measured, cautious tone. "The second of two boys, not twins." Sirius's words crept out slowly, while his tone had grown stone cold. He spoke of his oldest friends now as if they were barely acquaintances. Only his grandfather was able to see the pain held within his silver eyes. The other man said nothing but nodded in silence, something within him being comforted by the thought of 'noble blood.'

"How old is the babe?" Arcturus' face was a mask of responsibility. His face was calm but tense – his long and slender pureblood features accenting the wise old warlock's mask of calm.

"Just a few hours now, he was born just after midnight."

The old warlock's face registered something for a moment but almost instantly returned to the cool mask typical of noble purebloods.

"And what reason do you have for removing him from the care of his parents?" Arcturus' voice held a dangerous tone here – the answer that Sirius gave could dictate the future of his family, and likely that of the Potters as well.

"I did not." Sirius looked up at his grandfather, his face was not concealed by the same pureblood mask of indifference that his Grandfather used. His face showed vicious anger.

His grandfather only stared calmly back at him. If Sirius had not taken the boy, then what had happened? Surely the Potters had not wilfully surrendered the child, they could easily care for him many times over. That left only a few options.

"And while you did not steal the child away in the night, I do presume that they have not entrusted you with his care either?" Arcturus' face retained the deathly calm mask as he continued to interrogate and assess the situation.

"Correct." Sirius answered promptly. Both of their glasses remained perched on the ornate desk.

Arcturus remained silent for a moment. While his posture remained the image of perfection, and his face retained its statuesque stillness, his silver eyes grew unfocused as he started into the ether.

"Tell me." The phrasing was unusually short for his Grandfather. Sirius steadied himself and inhaled deeply.

"Dumbl-" he began, but he did not get a chance to finish.

Arcturus' exploded from his desk sending his chair crashing back into the wall. All of the glass in the room shattered in a flare of magic and rage which was followed by several items flying off of shelves onto the floor. The oil lamps that lit the walls flared before darkening completely. The only remaining light in the room was that of a magical artifact that sat affixed to the wall of the large study. It cast an eerie green glow over the room, barely lighting the room enough to illustrate the features of the two men. The whiskey from their broken glasses pooled on his desk, and dripped onto the floor slowly.

Seconds later Analise marched in with a stern look on her face. She did not speak, simply taking the child from the room to somewhere considerably safer. Arcturus did not even seem phased.

"That ruddy old fool!" Arcturus' voice was barely a whisper, but it conveyed his burning rage much better than any scream of rage could have. "He cannot possibly imagine that we would simply stand back with our wands up our arses while he commits infanticide." The last word came out as more of a curse than anything. His grandfather's anger remained clear and the tall imposing man remained standing in a towering rage.

Sirius didn't make any moves to calm his grandfather, he knew better than to disturb the man when he was in a rage like this.

"Retribution will have to be exacted of course. We have no other choice but to destroy this awful man!" Arcturus' face had settled into a cold glare when he said those words. "This is too far!" Arcturus spat. We could not prove it last time, but this time…" Arcturus froze, his face looking like a storm cloud. "He'll have to pay."

"I couldn't agree more." Sirius' statement was simple, but for Arcturus it was like a breath of fresh air that brought him back down to reality.

Without so much as a request, a house elf popped in with a new bottle of fire whiskey and a set of glasses. He sat to pouring them both two more healthy sized amounts as the older of the two men sat down again; disappearing again with a nod of thanks from Arcturus. The older man picked up his glass in downed it at once. Sirius remained silent, and simply sipped on the liquid in his glass.

"In the morning we will recognize the child as a protectorate of house Black under its Lord, and its heir". Arcturus' face and tone gave his grandson no chance to interrupt. "Does he have a name yet Sirius? You said he was born to the Potters, but I am not aware of their naming rites and rituals."

"No grandfather, he has not been named yet, not even informally." Sirius answered politely, he would have to look out for the child so he would not be adopted into house Black.

The man's anger stirred again and Sirius would swear he had seen a flash of red in his grandfather's famously grey eyes. "Then we will adop-"

"We will not. He will be named my heir, our protectorate, but he will pick his own house." Sirius' voice cut in over his grandfather's for the first time.

The patriarch of house black looked for a moment as if he was going to explode. But then he settled, as a flash of recognition, and maybe even pride, crossed his face and lighted his features.

"I can acquiesce to that grandson. But should you have a trueborn son, his rightful place will obviously be as your heir."

Sirius didn't argue with the man. He knew how important keeping bloodlines pure and connected was, and The Ancient and Noble house of Black was one of the oldest seven families in Magical Britain – he would not be held responsible for its blood extinction.

Without skipping a beat Arcturus started again. "Under the protectorate of House Black we will hold a naming ceremony for the child in front of the other Ancient and Noble houses, to do anything else is an attack on the honour of the child; he is of the noblest birth and he is important; despite the treacherous filth that brought him into this world."

"Sirius my boy…" His voice drifted for a moment before he steeled himself. "You will officially take the heirship of house Black just before the naming ceremony, and we'll have an inheritance test performed for the boy as well." His voice came out firm there was no room to argue with him.

"What can I do to help, Grandfather?"

"As of now? Nothing. Just decide on a name for the child. It must have meaning Grandson. He is a member of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, and a protectorate of the Most Ancient and Noble house of Black. Silly simple names like James, David, or Harold will not do. It must speak of his origins, it must speak of us. His middle name shall be of our ways. His first however, Sirius my boy, it is paramount."

Sirius was not sure if he should preen with pride, or groan at the pressure that had been placed upon him. But this was a noble cause, and he knew he must carry this burden with pride. "I understand the gravity of the task you have given me, Grandfather."

Arcturus looked at his grandson, and soon to be heir, with pride. "I never doubted you my boy. I knew you would come around. Even the best of us would have needed to take some time after being raised by a mother like yours." Arcturus' lips curled into a smirk. "Sometimes, I dare to believe that your father has only faked his death, to escape that woman."

Both of the men exchanged deep and rich laughs at that statement.

The two men continued like that late into the night. They had much work to do before the morning arrived. Letters had to be written, bank managers contacted, and official notices written for the Daily Prophet. Throughout the night many owls took wing from the countryside manor, spreading out in many different directions. The six largest owls headed for the Lords of the other Ancient and Noble houses, and the quickest toward Gringots.

Tomorrow would be a busy day indeed.

**A/N:**

Hope you enjoted, feel free to review and let me know what you like/dislike.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: A Crown as Black as Night**

Diagon Alley was sluggish as the Black family marched from the designated travelling point toward Gringotts, the main branch of magical Britain's only bank. Debris was still scattered around the Alley, and some of the damage from the night before was still visible on the face of some storefronts. Large puddles occupied areas that were sunken a bit—the day's hot sun not having evaporated them yet. Tree branches littered the alley—many had been pulled out of the way of the main walkways, but they still littered the ground regardless. Some signs had blown off of stores, others sported broken windows. Some of the older institutions of the Alley, like Ollivanders, looked completely unharmed; the families who owned them having taken precautions against such events decades ago.

"It seems that the shopkeepers have some work cut out for them." Analise's commented dryly, a little taken aback at the damage. She received nods of agreement from both Arcturus and Sirius, but neither of the men at either side of her spoke.

Sirius stood at her right holding the small child closely to his chest, with a hand cradling its head carefully and his arm covering most of the child's body. The boy was wrapped elegantly in wool blanket, its fibers enchanted with all the best protections and comforts that a baby of his position could want; cooling and heating charms to keep him at a comfortable temperature, enchantments to dispel moisture should it rain, silencing charms to provide the child with privacy should he break composure—not that anyone expected the child would, he was startlingly calm. The wool blanket was wrapped with a shroud of black acromantula silk, magic resistant and a testament of his status. The boy would be safe, he was safe with them.

The rest of the small family unit were dressed elegantly in blacks, greys, and silvers. The three made for quite an imposing sight. They were all quite tall, and were renowned for their skill and mercilessness with a wand as all Blacks were; even Sirius who had been alienated from the family for quite some time was respected for his accomplishments as a duelist. Arcturus and Analise looked particularly imposing with their trained, cold demeanors. The couple were famous across most of wizarding Europe; or infamous, depending on who you asked. Regardless, their nobility was not the only thing that demanded respect.

It was no surprise that they arrived at their destination uninterrupted save for a single photograph taken by a staff member of the Daily Prophet that had happened to be passing by; the man had been in Sirius's year at Hogwarts, a fellow Gryffindor. He had quickly scurried away when Lord Black turned to glare at him.

The three imposing figures walked up the steps of the bank and were allowed access without issue by the goblin warriors that guarded the door. Arcturus lead the group directly to the back of the bank's hall where an old goblin sat at an ornately carved stone podium; significantly higher and more embellished than that of the bank's tellers. The desk was made of the same stone as the floor it and looked like it had grown up from the floor itself to take up residence at the back of the bank.

"Hello my friend. I believe you are expecting us." Arcturus did not wait for the Goblin to look up at him. He simply spoke before passing the goblin a note he had received from his account manager late in the night confirming their appointment for this morning. Arcturus was never known to waste time, and the Goblins respected him for it.

The goblin glimpsed at the note in passing. "Just a moment, Lord Black." The Goblin walked at a surprisingly quick pace through two sturdy bronze doors that were flanked by armed guards. The guards were particularly large goblins, both of them wore armour that was a deep blue colour, a stark contrast from the other goblins of the bank's great hall who were dressed elegantly in some fashion of long tailored suit. The Goblin who had greeted them was gone only a few moments before he emerged and motioned for them to go on through the doors themselves. "I believe you know where you're going, Lord Black."

Arcturus did not speak but he nodded an affirmative while continuing on past the doors and down a dark and narrow hall. He did not say thank you, nor smile. Sirius remembered reading that Goblin's did not share a lot of ideas of "normal" with wizards where it concerned manners and punctuality. In fact, he could remember a lesson he had received from his own father many years ago. "When dealing with the Goblins son, remember to always be perfectly on time and not to use those manners that you might feel inclined to use in front of your grandparents, or the Lord and Lady of another house – Goblins have little time for such plea…" The sound of his father's voice lecturing him droned on inside his head, the memory drifting away as he stepped into the office behind his grandparents and took a seat, still holding the child close to his chest.

"Manager Garnuk, I trust that you have the necessary materials prepared?"

"Indeed, Lord Black. The paperwork is all prepared, and the ritual kit has already been stocked and placed in the ritual chamber, as directed." The Goblin spoke with a slight accent that made it difficult to understand some of the softer consonants in the English language. "You'll find the formal paperwork necessary to name your grandson Heir of the Ancient and Noble house of Black directly in front of you" the old Goblin waved at the desk where a leather binder sat facing the guest chairs on the other side of the Goblin's desk.

Arcturus didn't say anything before picking up the papers and reviewing them. His face was a mask of stone. Occasionally he would flourish a quill over the papers, signing or initialing to verify specific clauses or stipulations. The entire party sat in silence while he completed his work.

Not long later, Arcturus finished the document with a flourishing ornate signature at the very bottom of the document, followed by a smear of his blood, drawn from a quick cut to his thumb. He passed the document to Sirius who, perhaps childishly, trustingly, or a mixture of both, did not bother to read the documents, only signing them and sealing his mark with a similar smear of his own blood. But Arcturus was not surprised, he had expected that his grandson might do such a thing.

"It is done then, congratulations Lord and Heir Black." The goblin sat calmly behind the heavy oak desk watching the situation before it.

Arcturus reached into his robe pocket and seemed to search around for a moment, as if the pocket was many times larger than the robe could possibly allow for. Of course, it was. His face lightened just a little as he pulled out a small black box. The box was made of a glossy black stone and showed no seam. It had tiny intricate carvings of stars and other celestial bodies carved into its surface and inlaid with a dark metal that he could not identify, but Sirius knew the stone on sight to be obsidian, or at least something he had always assumed to be obsidian. He had seen it frequently in his youth, the Black family used in its artifacts and rituals to imbibe their magic.

Arcturus handed the box to Sirius who took it in an outstretched palm. When it touched his palm, Sirius felt the magic of the Black family, rich within this box, reach out and touch his own magic – his soul. It was like twin cables of ice and fire shot up through his arm and into his heart, lighting him on fire and freezing him to the core simultaneously. Before Sirius even had time to react, the sensation ended as if it had never happened at all.

The box, however had cooled significantly, and split itself open revealing two halves. Inside was a white gold ring inlaid with a fairly large cut of the same black stone. It was impossibly smooth, and the white gold seemed to fuse seamlessly into the stone itself and then seep through it, forming within the stone markings of celestial bodies and great stars that seemed to actually burn within the stone. Sirius recognized the star in the dead center of the ring as Sirius, the star he was born under and named for.

No one said anything but all eyes in the room were focused on the impressive gift that the family's magic had bestowed to its new heir.

"It seemed that I was not mistaken, grandson. Your father would be most proud, that is quite the vote of confidence you have received from our family's magic there." Arcturus looked at his grandson with warm respectful eyes.

Sirius gulped and dared to take a deep slow breath. He never realized it, but he had been holding his breath while examining the ring.

The ring snapped with the same flare of inferno and ice as he slid it onto his ring finger, only this time it did not fade. The cold was deeper and darker than anything Sirius had ever known. His entire body felt as cold and dark as the darkness that separated the stars; but he felt empowered at the thought, and exhilarated by the darkness like never before. At the same time, he felt his magic burn in him with the fury of an ancient inferno, the fire running up his arm through his veins until it reached his heart and shot out to the rest of his body. He had never imagined the Black family magic acting like this; nobody had warned him.

Just a moment had gone by before Sirius' grandfather's voice cut in again and snapped him out of his dazed state. "The protectorate papers now Garnuk, if you don't mind."

The goblin slid the papers over with ease. Arcturus had actually written the contract last night himself with Sirius, but for it to be legally binding in the eyes of the Wizenmangot the goblins had to technically craft the contact. Both men quickly signed off on the document.

"You'll need to smear a drop of the babe's blood on this paper, but we'll also need a more significant amount for his inheritance test. Are you sure –"

The goblin's caution was thrown out, surprisingly, by Analise.

"He is a strong child, it will be of no harm to him." Her voice was firm and assertive, but also reassuring. Nobody in the room dared to argue with her, high priestesses always knew what was best for a magical child.

"As you wish, Lady Black. Arcturus, the duty of taking the child's blood falls to you as the most elderly member of an Ancient and Noble house present, and as his future protectorate." The goblin gestured toward a small shallow black stone bowl that was placed on top of a piece of golden parchment.

"You'll need to fill the bowl half way with the child's blood, we'll only need to smear the wound on the protectorate document after that." The goblin's face betrayed no emotion or interest as he instructed them.

Sirius handed the sleeping child to his grandfather, knowing instinctively that he could trust the man. Such rituals had occurred many times before, and his grandmother has said no harm would befall the babe.

Arcturus laid the child in his lap and reached into the fabric that swaddled him so that he could slowly coax the babe's hand out. With extreme care he guided a razor-sharp silver blade across the baby's small palm. The child did not fuss much, making only a quiet whining sound of discomfort at the pain. Arcturus held the child's palm over the small black bowl to let it fill part of the way up.

As soon as they had taken all they needed, and smeared a drop on the protectorate document, Analise took the child into her own arms. She muttered spells as she traced her long elegant ivy wand over the small wound, serving to comfort the child and mend his wound at the same time. The babe remained silent and gurgled happily at Analise as she coddled him and spoke to him quietly.

"The child is remarkably calm" Garnuk said while he carefully placed the shallow bowl back atop of the golden parchment.

Arcturus only nodded an affirmative again, watching over the child carefully. Analise's bright blue eyes sparkled as she interacted with the child, it was a beautiful sight to behold.

"The inheritance test will take some time to complete, but it should be finished before the child is formally named. We will have it brought in, in an enchanted scroll to the priest or priestess conducting the ceremony – would you like to avail of Gringott's services for this? We have several credible persons o-."

Analise cut in again, her voice firm as usual, but kind. "That will not be necessary Garnuk, I'm an accomplished priestess in the old ways."

The goblin appeared thoroughly chastised. "Of course, forgive me my lady, I hadn't thought—."

Analise looked up from the baby once more for just a moment but chose not to respond to the Goblin. It was of no consequence really.

Garnuk simply nodded. "Heir Black, as you are the legal guardian of the child, it is up to you to name the boy. You will write his name on the top of this golden parchment and then tap your wand on the edge of the bowl to begin the ritual.

Sirius nodded and wrote the name carefully on the top of the parchment in a stylish script. They had discussed many choices for the name last night, and what naming rituals they were bound to abide by. They had never made a final decision, but Arcturus trusted Sirius in this matter, as long as he acted within the parameters he had outlined.

After Sirius had wrote it Arcturus glanced down and nodded in contentment. "I approve, grandson. A name worthy of a king. If there is nothing else Garnuk? I believe it is time we leave for the ritual chamber. The other ancient and noble houses ought to have gathered by now."

"Yes, let us." Analise rose to her feet elegantly, coddling the now sleeping babe.

The two men rose behind her and followed her out of the room. The three nobles strode down the hall, somehow an even more imposing sight than before. Their faces were all coached into a calm demeanor as the descended the long spiraling stairs that the goblins had carved into the stone under the bank. On the inside, however, Sirius was panicking. How was he supposed to face his two best friends again? And after he had rescued their child from under their nose? Did they even know what he had done? What on earth would they think?

After some time travelling downward, they arrived in an eloquent receiving hall. This is where the regular noble houses would have to wait, only Ancient and Noble houses were welcomed into the chamber itself. Of course, as this was a private event no noble houses were even invited. It would only be the highest elite of their society welcomed into this ritual.

All three members of the Black family steeled themselves before they passed through the large iron wrought doors and into the ritual chamber. Eleven witches and wizards stood in small groups near the entrance of the hall. The hall's ceiling was incredibly high up and made the relatively small circular room seem cavernous. The floor was a mosaic depicting magical history. It swirled out around a round bowl-shaped altar in the center of the chamber. Runes were inlaid into the floor, offering dividing bars for the mosaic as it swirled outward to meet the walls. The images in the mosaic blurred together, the most vibrant being the most recent that were closer to the center. The ability to read the strange runes had been lost long ago, but interpretation was made possible through the pictures contained in the mosaic.

"Analise, Arcturus! Such a lovely surprise, hello my dear friends!" A tall witch with blood red coloured hair greeted the Black family as they walked into the room. "Oh and Sirius! My, how you've grown!"

Analise moved forward with a wild smile on her face to meet her oldest and closest friend. "Alena! Oh it's been too long, I haven't seen you since Arcturus' birthday!"

To the side of Alena stood her husband, Lord Bones. "Marus, well met brother." Arcturus reached out his arm and the two men grabbed each other's forearms firmly. Marus was Arcturus' closest friend, ally, comrade and confidant; they shared a closer bond than their wives even. The man stood just as tall and imposing as Arcturus. His high cheekbones were accentuated by hair that was whiter than the most valuable ivory. His hair was pulled back behind his ears and the perfectly straight white strands ran down his back between his shoulders.

"Yes Arcturus, I assume this little one is why our meeting was cut short last evening?" Marus's eyes looked over at the neatly wrapped fabric that Analise held in her arms.

"Indeed, indeed. It was quite the evening Marus, quite a spectacular turn of events." Arcturus' voice hinted to something without coming outright and saying anything. Marus picked up on it and his eyes began to sparkle in anticipation; he knew he would hear the whole story soon enough, as soon as the pair had a moment of privacy.

Before either of the men could speak again another man walked up to make himself known, thus interrupting them.

"Garrick! I'm so pleased you could make it. I hope the storm last night has not damaged your shop too badly, that would be such a shame."

"Oh nothing too serious Arcturus. We were prepared for such an occasion. Just some puddles really." Garrick Ollivander's wise eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled warmly. "Sirius, it is nice to see that you have taken up your houses' responsibilities. Have you met my grandson and heir, Rickon?"

"I cannot say that I have, Lord Ollivander, I finished Hogwarts when he was still a first year. Never had much interaction really, especially as we were in different houses." Sirius turned to Rickon this time, who had appeared at the side of his Grandfather. "I hear you have quite the aptitude for Herbology, Rickon. You have recently started an apprenticeship with professor Sprout if I'm not mistaken?"

"You are correct Sirius. And a second with Grandfather, it is our hope, of course, that I will one day take over the responsibilities of the family business." Rickon spoke smoothly but not in the extremely even and precise way that the Lords spoke. He was a young heir, and with time he would develop the necessary skills. Sirius of course had been started incredibly early, before the falling out he had with his parents. Now his decorum was passable, though anything but ideal.

"Well it would be such a shame if Britain lost its most valuable wand making family, I applaud your efforts young man." Said a new voice, that came from a large burly man.

"Brontus, I'm glad you made time to join us." Arcturus drawled, his voice precise, even, and diplomatic. His face was schooled into a tight neutral smile.

"Nonsense Arcturus, you may be a dark family but that would be no reason for House Longbottom to shirk the responsibilities that the Ancient ones hold to one another."

"Indeed. Speaking of shirking responsibilities, I don't suppose you have seen the Potters? Or the Weasleys for that matter?" Arcturus's face remained calm, but his voice held a promise, or threat, of retribution for the dishonor that the other two light families where showing his house.

"The Potters just gave birth to a son, Arcturus! Surely you do not expect them to be here this morning!" Brontus' wife, Augusta's voice was shrill and rubbed Arcturus' patience the wrong way.

"Oh you're right Augusta, silly us. Whatever was I thinking, an official summons by a fellow ancient house is, after all, nothing more than a casual invitation to tea!" Analise said in a nonchalant voice.

Brontus furrowed his eyebrows and was about to speak again before a ruckus interrupted them

"I told you that you were going to make me late if I took you Charlie..." The noise was coming from what sounded like two individuals rushing down the stairs.

Two orange haired wizards ran into the chamber, slightly out of breath. The oldest instantly stopped and began straightening his robes. He steeled himself and then proceeded the walk calmly, further into the chamber. The young one however remained out of breath and stood in place a few moments to steady himself and catch himself.

"Lord Black, I apologize for our lack of punctuality. I was forced last minute to take my brother along, I hope that is alright… My father sends his regrets, of course." Bill Weasley's expressions and tone were coached into a cool demeanor that Sirius was envious of; the mannerisms of the Ancient houses coming so easily to the young man. It was unlikely that his father had even trained the man; the Weasley Lord was, well. Less than respected amongst his peerage brothers.

"Yes, of course he does, young Heir Weasley" Analise smiled at the young man, the entire room politely choosing to pretend that Lord Weasley had ever cared much for their Ancient ways instead of constantly shirking his responsibilities in all areas bar the Wizengamot, where he was a thorn in the side of Blacks and Bones families.

"But at least you bothered to show up dear, unlike some others." Analise's voice was sweet but underplayed with a threat for anyone to challenge her.

"I believe we should begin, now that we are all here." Arcturus' voice rose above all of the conversation in the chamber ending them quickly without much fuss.

"Yes Arcturus, do tell us why we have been called from our homes." As Brontus spoke a goblin appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and carried a sealed golden scroll to Lady Black. She accepted the scroll from the goblin who bowed to her and left promptly.

Analise began speaking loudly and clearly, from her position in the center of the chamber. "We have summoned the descendants of the ancient ones for a naming ceremony. A child of greatness has been born, and as he has none that speak for him directly, he will be named and protected by the Blacks, before all of the ancient ones, as was tradition for all Ancient births."

Most of the witches and wizards in the crowd looked somewhat confused. The Longbottoms grumbled and looked annoyed about having been called for such an old and archaic practice as a naming ceremony. Lord Bones however, smiled in excitement. He didn't know the precise details yet, his letter from Arcturus had simply said he would explain later. But Marus knew Arcturus would have a good reason for doing this, and that it would likely have major implications for their alliance.

"While we are aware that this is somewhat of an antiquated practice, we can assure you that this ritual is entirely necessary. All will be made clear as the ritual progresses." Arcturus' voice was authoritative and steady. "I defer now to my wife, Priestess Analise, who will be conducting the ritual."

Analise smiled warmly and opened her arms toward the crowd. "I ask that those representing their house stand in their appointed positions. All other members of families must stand in the outer ring of the chamber while the ritual is conducted." Analise's voice was formal as she issued the commands. While moving to the outer ring, Sirius handed her the child which she took gently into one arm, and she held the golden scroll in the other.

Everyone did as requested while Lord Black, Lord Bones, Lord Ollivander, Lord Longbottom, and Heir Weasley stood around the central altar of the chamber.

"The Chamber recognizes Houses Ollivander, Weasley, Longbottom, Bones, and its host, House Black. It notes that House Peverell is excused in its dormancy, and it notes the infraction of House Potter for not appearing as summoned by an Ancient brother." Analise's voice held a strange quality as she intoned the words.

"House Black has assembled the ancient ones for the purpose of a naming ceremony for its protectorate." Analise placed the small child in the center of the bowl-shaped Altar. It was completely naked with the exception of a grey coloured sheet of silk to protect its decency. She placed the golden scroll just above the babe's head after it settled on its back, then she placed her hands on the rim of the altar.

"As a high priestess of the ancient ways, I so begin the naming ceremony for the protectorate of House Black." Her voice held the same strange tone as she spoke the words. "I have watched the skies as this child has approached. I have watched the stars speak of his arrival. I have heard the winds welcome him, the rains prepare the earth for his feet, and the lightening warn all who might cross him. I welcome him to the world."

Everyone in the chamber stood silently, watching Analise and considering her words carefully. Most did not believe in superstitions like these anymore; that the world reacted to births and deaths on such a scale—that magic could even make such things happen if it wanted to. But despite their scepticism, the word of a highly regarded high priestess made them question their doubt. Analise herself had personally helped members of nearly all of their families, save the Longbottoms and Potters; surely if she believed something there must be some element of truth.

The crowd's considerations were cut off by Arcturus. Arcturus stepped forward, closer to the wide altar in the center of the room, and placed his hands on the rounded stone rim. He stared at the child for a moment, before speaking up to take his place in the ritual. "House Black invites its peers to participate in the naming of its protectorate" his deep voice reverberated in the chamber, inviting the other members of the ancient and noble houses to do as he did and place their hands on the rim of the altar.

"House Bones recognizes the veracity of its call." Lord Marus Bones intoned, he too placing his hands on the bowled Altar.

He was promptly followed by Lord Ollivander, Heir Weasley, and a reluctant Lord Longbottom.

"Young one, we welcome you into the circle of ancient blood upon which the Magic of the British Isles rests." Analise's voice held an almost unhuman quality now.

A silver ring of energy circled the Altar, linking through each of the house's representatives.

Heir Weasley's eyes popped open in shock, staring at the ring of magic that encircled them. He had never been witness to a naming ritual. Several others in attendance were similarly amazed, having forgotten many of the old ways that once governed their kind.

"We welcome you, child, sky told, storm born…" Several people in the room raised their eyes at the titles that Lady Black bestowed upon the child "… to the ranks of the Ancient ones. May your blood run pure, and your magic flow strong." The silver ring tightened around them until it wrapped around just the rim of the altar.

Analise's hands moved from the rim of the altar to the take the golden scroll she had placed above the head of the child. "We accept you child" Analise broke the seal on the scroll "into the Ancient and Noble house of Black" she unrolled the scroll.

"Born to house Potter" the eyes of almost every person in the room save the Black's shot open "you were thrown from their home, second born, sky told, storm born, and unwelcomed in their halls. They disgrace you further by not only rejecting you, but also not appearing for your nameship." The silver ring intensified and the strange quality in Analise's voice continued to gain the strange inhuman, almost metallic, quality.

"Child, we bestow upon you the second name of Vega, a mark of the house that shelters you, and a sign of your inevitable greatness. Your blood speaks, saying you are of Ancient and Noble blood. Of the Ancient and Noble house Black who has taken you in, of the Ancient and Noble house of Potter, who cast you out…" Analise paused for just a moment as she read the scroll, a single sparkle delighting her eye "… and so proclaimed by the Goddess through the magic of your blood, Lord, under regency, of the once lost Ancient and Noble house of Peverell."

Analise had to use every ounce of herself control not to react after she read that line of the golden scroll. She had known something was up, but had never imagined this scenario.

Everyone in the chamber seemed about as surprised as she was on the inside, surprised enough to forget that he was also born to the Potters. Lord Longbottom looked particularly taken aback, almost insulted, by the news. Arcturus, a credit to himself, was too stunned to react physically. His mind raced while he considered the implicatins of what he had just discovered. His eyes met with his wives and he knew instantly it was true.

"Lady magic has also chosen to bestow a name upon you, child."

The room went quiet. Few were ever named by magic; several had been, Merlin himself had been; and many others after him. Not all became wonderfully powerful. Some had just settled in the countryside and raised a family. Some had died at a young age, others going on to invent a spell or two, or to win a few awards—but nothing too spectacular; but it was still a rare honour.

"I welcome you, Lord Azrael Vega Peverell, sky told, storm born, to the realm of magic and the ranks of the Ancient ones." With a steady hand Analise reached into the ritual kit that was under the altar in a simple wooden box. It took her a moment, but she finally found what she was looking for, a vial of black liquid that reflecting light in silver shimmering waves.

Analise held the vial above the child. "As the Ancient ones did, so too do we today. Azrael Vega Peverell, we grant you the honor of your birthright. A crown so black that the night feels envy, the lifeblood of your houses sigil." Upon the last words she slowly poured the liquid in a circle over the child's head. It made a ring around his head, and ran slightly down the sides, creating what looked eerily resembled a twisted sort of upsidedown crown upon the child's head.

The silver ring of magic that had been present throughout the ceremony compressed even further and made itself one with the crown of black liquid that dawned the child's head. The circlet and the crown flashed for a moment before both the magic and the black crown disappeared into the child's skin.

As soon as the magic settled Brontus Longbottom scowled and moved to turn away from the Altar. He separated his hands from the basin as if it had burned him. The rest of the Lords were content to stare at the child in wonder.

"Come along family, we will not remain here a moment longer than we have to." Brontus's tone was dark and angry as he stormed out the doors of the chamber and was followed quickly by his wife, and his eldest daughter, Rosemirth, who had remained quiet the entire time.

The eldest Weasley looked perplexed. He stared at the child with a mixture of confusion and awe. "Was that – was it…"

"It was thestral blood, willingly given, yes. A ritual as old as our families." Analise looked at the redheaded heir with a calm and curious look on her face, testing him. "Every Peverell child has been anointed with thestral blood, dating back to the dawn of their ancient line."

Bill paled slightly. He knew about the anointment rituals that each of the ancient houses held, he had just never imagined that he'd see this particular kind. There are not been a Lord Peverell for centuries, the family were believed lost forever.

"He will wear the mantle well. You can see greatness in the boy's eyes. He will be a force to be reckoned with, long before any of us are prepared for him I expect." Marus's voice was excited. He seemed both energetic and wary at the revelations he'd just been privy to.

"What say you Garrick? Your house has remained quiet as of yet." Arcturus turned to the old wizened man. His look was followed by the rest of those whom remained in the chamber.

"A most curious child. And likely to be a challenging customer when I am graced with his presence in my shop. But I am glad to welcome a brother back into the world. You'll have to keep me apprised of his going-ons Arcturus. I'd like to follow this boy most closely."

"Certainly Garrick, it would be my pleasure." Arcturus' lips had finally twisted into a satisfied smile.

Great things were to come. He could feel it in the very core of his soul.

The families had all dispersed from the ritual chamber fairly quickly after some pleasantries. Everybody's mind was still reeling from the revelations. The Weasley boys were the first to travel up the stairs after the rude departure of the Longbottoms. They were followed not long after by the Ollivandars, and finally the Black and Bones families who departed together as the close allies always did.

"Arcturus, you do realize what this means, don't you?" Marus spoke in a hushed but excited tone.

"Of course I do, my friend, we have been granted a gift from Lady Magic herself Marus." The two men smiled wickedly at one another, like kids on Christmas. Their two wives simply rolled their eyes and made plans for the dinner parties and balls that were sure to follow; and the countless ways they would have to reign in their husbands, or push them in the correct direction. They obviously knew the significance of what had just happened, but they also knew they would be excluded from most of the scheming. Their husbands were up to something, as they always were, and they would have to be prepared for the battles that were sure to come; the two made a dangerous pair.

But it was okay that the two men thought they'd be at the helm of all of the scheming. It made their task easier.

Analise smiled down at the babe who slept again in a bundle of fabrics. "The balance has been restored, little one. And it is all thanks to you."

**A/N:  
**There you have it, chapter three! I hope I did the naming ceremony justice; I do not have much experience writing this kind of scene. What do you think of the name Azrael? The first name that Sirius intended will be revealed in time; Sirius did choose the name Vega though. Thanks for your reviews, favorites, and follows, I take notice of and appreciate each and every one of them and do my best to reply to every review with a PM!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Conversations.**

**A/N:**  
An early version of this chapter featured some mistakes were I used an old version of Azrael's name. I've since fixed this. Hope you enjoy!

**-o-**

Night had descended onto Blackweald quickly. It had been a busy day; after the naming ceremony, the Bones family had come to Blackweald along with the Blacks. Arcturus and Marus had instantly split off to plot together in Arcturus' study, while Analise and Alena had run off to their own haven to do the same—taking Azreal with them so that they could dote on him. Sirius had not been sure what to do, his grandfather had not invited him to follow him, and it would have been rude to intrude upon either of their conversations.

At a loss, Sirius chose to do something that would make everyone who knew him blink in confusion: he went to the library. While his grandparents were well-renowned scholars, and even his own father had been well known for his extensive knowledge of curses, Sirius had preferred the more… athletic aspects of life. The man had spent most of his life training for, and practicing, Quidditch moves. He now found himself on the reserve keeper for the Wimbourne Wasps. He didn't get a lot of playtime as the reserve keeper, but the current Keeper, Dedalus Podmore, was starting to age and lose his shine. He had been injured six times last season alone, giving Sirius more playtime than he'd had in the last two years of his professional career. It would only be a matter of time.

Before he knew it, Sirius found himself standing within the stacks of his family's considerable library. He drifted through the stacks, checking the plaques at the end of each stack reading its contents until he found his target: bloodlines.

He ran his fingers along the leather spines of the many different books lining the shelves. Some of them about specific families, others about groups of families and alliances and their histories. Sirius kept searching until he found what he was looking for. A book on the ancient families, and a book about the Peverells.

Sirius brought the two large tomes over to the nearest chair and settled in for a long read.

It just so happened that this chair was near a star chart. Sirius' eyes traced the chart almost adoringly, his entire family had lectured him on the skies since he was old enough to understand them—probably even before, honestly. This chart was a particularly detailed section of the northern sky centered around Lyra. And just off to the side of Lyra was Heracles—meant to be the namesake of the new addition to their family.

"Oh, the many lives you could have lived. Heracles Black. The Son of James and Lilly Potter. And now the life you will lead, Azrael Peverell."

Sirius stared wistfully at the star chart, wondering what this newest turn of events meant. If it could have been predicted in the stars. He recalled the centaurs he had befriended in sixth-year and coaxed into trusting him with his deep knowledge of the stars. Would they have been able to predict this? Would they have known?

Sirius sighed and turned his attention back to the tomes he had brought back with him. It was time to learn.

**-o-**

While Sirius read, Arcturus and Marus sat together in the former's study, sitting in twin armchairs in the corner of the room sipping amber liquid from two painstakingly carved crystal tumblers. Both of the men had shed their robes and were sitting in just black shirts with twin black pants. They preferred different cuts and embellishments, for example, Arcturus' shirt had silver buttons while Marus' had ivory, but their dressings were still nearly identical.

"Weasley's disrespect is unforgivable," Marus spoke without looking at Arcturus, he was transfixed at some point across the room at present.

"Indeed. He'll have to be dealt with. His children show promise though, the two oldest at least." Arcturus' voice was deeper the Marus'. The men met eyes for a quick moment after Arcturus' comments and only nodded. Seemingly communicating nonverbally, even though they were the only two in the room. Several minutes passed where they both sat in silence, taking sips of their whiskey occasionally.

"I suppose something will have to be done about the Potters also, and Dumbledore." The deeper voice stated, not expecting an answer from its companion.

"And perhaps the Longbottoms too, if they do not learn by example." Was Marus' reply.

Several more minutes passed before either of them spoke again; both of them choosing to marinate in their thoughts, speculating at paths to vengeance for the young boy that had so suddenly appeared in their lives.

"I suppose I'll have to file to serve as proxy and counsel for Azrael on the Wizengamot until he's old enough to sit on it himself."

"A most helpful duty that you find yourself now compelled to take on," Marus replied. "I suspect his seat on the Hogwarts Board of governors will need similar attention."

Arcturus nodded. "These changes will make a difference, Marus. We need only sway Garrick to our side now, or even the Weasley boy."

"We'll need to meet with all the dark families then; our allies amongst them, those we trust. This is unprecedented, and now there is much that can be done to bring us greater freedom, to return to tradition. To get in the way of that insipid Albus Dumbledore and his oppressive light faction." Marus conjured some paper and a quill and began to take notes, and list all of the parties they'd have to contact soon. Some had question marks next to their names, while others were underlined.

It may be time to visit some of our old friend on the continent, Marus."

The white-haired man's writing froze as he considered what Arcturus had said. "Do you think it's safe, Arcturus?"

"Maye not the easiest thing to do. But you know how helpful they could be, Marus. You know how deep their knowledge runs. They could be invaluable allies." His tone was careful, trying to convince his friend.

"Or dangerous liabilities. You know what they did."

"I know, my friend… I know. But we both know that we can handle them. And so do they."

Marus grunted, obviously still not convinced at the prospects of visiting their old friends on the continent.

**-o-**

An old man with a long white beard sat at his desk in the ministry of magic and smoked a short black pipe filled with a strange looking herb. The smoke rings he exhaled floated to the top of the high rounded ceiling creating a large cloud that refused to dissipate. The large magical window that composed the entire back wall of his office did not depict the usual merry and relaxed scene of a sunny meadow, but instead a craggy rock shore with crashing waves and the thick dark clouds of a brewing storm.

His face was twisted into a rare sneer of anger and his eyes were pointed like daggers at the newspaper in front of him. It was utterly uncharacteristic for the man, who often wore a grandfatherly smile coupled with warm and twinkling eyes. Yes, Albus Dumbledore was indeed quite angry.

Dumbledore turned again to the newspaper that was the subject of his ire. It had been left on his desk that morning as it was every morning by his assistant. "Ancient and Noble House of Black Adopts Child." The headline blared in large bold font on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Just below the headline was a picture of the family unit walking imposingly down Diagon Alley. He felt his jaw tighten and fist close involuntarily as he looked at the picture.

He growled again and waved his hand at the newspaper; fire spread out from the center of the paper and it was quickly engulfed, reduced to ash without disturbing anything else on the large and cluttered desk. He blew the ash away with a deep exhale, much of landing in his long white beard tarnishing it, making it just a little greyer.

"Thrice be damned dark heathens" the man muttered. He had been working to exterminate their kind for almost a century and they were still a thorn in his side. Gods how he hated the accursed Dark families, and the Blacks in particular; Arcturus Black had always been out to get him, not to mention his little puppet Marus – the pair had never ceased to be a thorn in his side. And Arcturus' grandson Sirius was a fool, so easily manipulated that it almost made him laugh.

"Good for nothing Arcturus bloody Black that sadistic deceitful po-"

His ill-tempered grumbling was interrupted by a knock on the door. He gazed at the door lazily and pulled at the wards he had set up with an absent flick of his wand. The wards recognized Arthur Weasley immediately.

"Enter, Arthur." The old man called. His tone was tired and promised danger for any who dared to waste his time.

One of the large thick doors that served as the main entrance to Dumbledore's office creaked open quickly. "Thank you, Minister, hot day isn't it?" The red-headed man that came into the office wearing a grey muggle suit. His hair was short, reaching just down to the top of his ears. His pudgy frame was disguised by the suit, but most importantly - he did not look the part of Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Weasley. He looked more like a muggle insurance salesman really.

"I've told you before Arthur. We are friends, you can call me Albus." The man smiled gently at his ally and confidant who nodded in acceptance. He closed the thick wooden door and then walked further into the large and lavishly decorated office. Dumbledore motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk and Arthur took a seat. The winged chair was overly padded, done with garishly red upholstery.

Dumbledore's own chair was more like a throne with its rich looking red velvet upholstery and gold-colored wood. The chair's high back tapered up into a peak that was marked with a delicate carving of a flame, sitting just above the old man's head. The chair was practically regal.

"Yes, minis- Albus." The redhead corrected himself with a tone of finality. He took a moment as he wiggled around in the large plush chair, making himself comfortable. He finally relaxed with a soft sigh and a fake-looking gentle smile as he folded one knee over the other and clasped his hands together over them.

"I presume you are here because of today's news?" Dumbledore's tone sounded calm, granted the relaxed nature of the visit, but his eyes were an angry steel blue; they were almost acidic in their twinkling while he spoke. They often reminded the subjects of his ire of balls of blue flame.

"Of course I am, Lord Longbottom came to me the moment they named the whelp. He was furious, and I certainly cannot say I blame him!" Arthur's voice held the tone of a scandal while also hinting at his anger, the fake smile he had originally painted onto his face had barely lasted a moment. "And of course Bill or and Charlie wouldn't give me any details about the child, if father hadn't publicly named Bill second in line before he died I would have disinherited that boy ages ago!" He sounded cold and unforgiving as he spoke about his eldest son whose defiance of his father was practically famous.

Albus' brow furrowed at the extent of Arthur's anger. He himself was mad, yes; furious even! But, but he was mad because he knew that the child the Blacks had so arrogantly abducted had a rich potential for darkness and a strong magical core; the child had reminded him of a cold dark ocean. He shivered at the memory. But he did not know why Longbottom and Weasley were so furious. The two men were not present for his birth so there was no way they had seen the boy's magical core. He doubted anyone else had seen the boy's magic, perhaps with the exception of the Blacks. He would have to navigate this conversation closely to extract the red Lord's secrets. If Arthur believed he already knew his secrets, then the foolish man could not be held responsible for betraying Ancient and Noble information to a lower house.

"Indeed Arthur, this child is a curse on our race." His tone was careful and even, in the same angry tone he had already used – made easy because his anger was genuine. It served its purpose and the enraged Lord Weasley continued ranting. His voice growing louder and his words quickening, he was building into a temper and his face was growing to match his hair. "The little beast is going to completely upturn the balance in the Wizenmangot, they must have faked that damn inheritance test, of course they did, there is no way that child is heir to any extinct magical line, if I hadn't known better I'd have said he was the bastard son of Sirius and one of his whores."

Dumbledore reeled internally. Extinct magical line? It couldn't be true. Could it? The child's insidiously dark magic, and the strength of it… He hadn't thought the child was that much of a threat. He would have turned around in the forest and killed the brat if he had known that. Albus felt a panicked sweat break out on his forehead, he was immobilized by fear. 'I should have known, I should have known magic that dark, that deep… and that storm. I should have seen the signs.' His internal panic distracted him from Arthur's incessant rambling.

"Those greedy little imps must be working with them all they care about is gold, and everyone knows that Arcturus is wealthy beyond anyone's imagination. He's probably bribing the grubby little stone rats." Arthur spat the last words; he was no friend to the goblin nation, or any race of magical creatures for that matter.

Dumbledore did his best to maintain his calm disposition, he needed to distract Arthur. "They are treacherous little beasts, aren't they? We will have to stop the Dark families of course!" Arthur continued ranting but Dumbledore wasn't able to listen to the man, he was barely even paying attention and had no idea who had just insulted because of his own private meltdown.

"Has Lord Longbottom developed a plan yet?" He immediately cut off the redheaded Lord when the thought appeared in his mind. He knew that most likely Brontus hadn't, the man was not the most intelligent of wizards. Of course, the man might have hatched some half-brained scheme all the same. Dumbledore made a note to keep an eye on Lord Longbottom. But if the man was plotting something, he could ride the waves the man created.

"He has shared a few ideas with me… He is particularly interested in destroying the boy's inheritance of course, which is probably the easiest course of action but we are not sure if Lord Potter will comply, and then Lord Ollivander is a whole other question, he is very unlikely to vote in favor of our motion, but we may be able to convince him to abstain… he is such a traditionalist that it is unlikely he would stand for such an affront to the ancient balance or some such nonsense..." Arthur said the last couple of words with a mocking tone; his disrespect for the ways of the ancient seven was clear.

Arthur's voice prattled on with political scenarios that would allow them to destroy the babe's inheritance. 'I should have killed the little bastard the moment he exited the womb. Or killed him when I left him in the forest'. Dumbledore cursed himself inside his head and swore to never make such a foolish mistake again. His mercy had always been his downfall, it would always be as long as the Blacks were there to exploit it.

"Work with Lord Longbottom to eliminate the line," Dumbledore spoke with a finite tone that left no question to the instructions he had given the younger man.

"Politically sir?" there was a pregnant pause as Lord Weasley looked at Dumbledore win a severe gaze.

"Any means necessary. He must not be allowed to take his place in the Wizenmangot." Dumbledore returned Arthur's severe gaze as the red-headed man got up from his chair and turned toward the door. Once it had opened, he turned back to Dumbledore. "Of course, minister, I'll have the report on your desk before the end of the month." Dumbledore's mask of benevolence that he showed the public made its way back onto his face.

"That's wonderful Arthur!" Dumbledore's voice held a falsely cheerful tone almost as artificial as the expression on his face. "Oh and Arthur? Send that bumbling fool Cornelius into me. He forgot to bring me my paper again this morning." Arthur chuckled at Corneilius' expense.

"I swear I simply cannot get a good assistant since Ms. Jorkins died!" Dumbledore's tone spoke of a protracted and exhausted annoyance, but not the deep anger that it had earlier. He was just loud enough for the room outside to hear him, and likely send Cornelius into a panic.

"Mr. Fudge, I believe the minister would like to see you! Something about his newspaper." Arthur called the words out while searching the reception area for the man. He spotted him instantly with his tacky green bowler hat. The man paled visibly as he walked toward the door, noticeably confused as he had delivered the paper just an hour ago.

Arthur left the room with a final nod to Dumbledore.

**-o-**

Things had been much calmer at the Black estate. They had had a busy day signing papers at Gringotts and making preparations to move Sirius and Azrael into the estate permanently. Arcturus had spent some time bargaining with Lord Malfoy about something and neither Analise or Sirius knew why. Arcturus had simply assured them that he would let them know when he was successful. Analise and Sirius had accepted the news quietly and left for Diagon Alley. They made their rounds to the shops with little Azrael wrapped in the same Acromantula silk and wool blankets that he had been the day before.

They had made several stops that day in shops and spent a great deal of gold, but they now had a full stock to place in Azrael's nursery.

The evening seemed to come quickly, which found Analise and Sirius preparing for the dinner party Arcturus had invited their closest friends, allies, and partners to.

"Sirius darling, these new robes look absolutely wonderful on you! You look so distinguished, just like your grandfather when he and I met." Analise fussed over Sirius' dress robes as they stood in the family parlor getting ready for the evening's dinner party. His robes were a dark gray color with black trim. Long sleeves hung from his wrists but did not obstruct his hand's range of motion, and the bottom hem of the robe swept just above the floor. They dressed his tall slim frame extremely well. On his finger sat his Black family heirship ring. He did not wear his family chain around his neck this evening as he would not be leaving the estate–instead, his eloquently cut robes showed off the smooth unblemished pale skin of his neck. His hair was tied back tightly with a strip of black leather completing the look. They looked similar in fact, the only differences being that Analise's robes were cut considerably lower and her hair had been pinned up instead of drawn back.

The parlor was a dark room decorated with dark varnished walnut, shades of black, and no small amount of the black stone that composed Blackweald. The comfortable but elegant furniture had silver-grey upholstery, and there was a large bay window that overlooked a forest of humongous trees.

The view didn't look like it belonged to England. A Black ancestor several centuries ago had the trees imported trees from all over the world, both magical and mundane. He had taken some of the trees back himself after several years spent traveling the world. The trees created a dense and dark forest of diverse humongous trunks with a thick multi-colored and multi-layered canopy. The family's forest was as famous as it was large and was rumored to contain some species believed extinct elsewhere. Hogwart's forbidden forest could just barely hold a candle to it.

"Thank you grandmother, but I feel like a trained dog in these stiff robes." Sirius cracked a grin as his grandmother snorted in laughter, a rare occurrence. They often shared moments like these when out of the public eye. Not that anyone would believe him, but he had inherited his gift of comedy from his grandmother.

"I'll never manage to train you, Sirius, I've come to accept that. The best I can dare to desire is the occasional bath and grooming." Their continued laughter lit both of their faces.

"Oh yes, that reminds me. We've converted the room between our suite of rooms and yours own into a nursery for Azrael, he can stay there, close by, until he gets old enough to desire his own space and privacy."

Sirius smiled warmly in response to his grandmother. He was happy that she had taken a keen interest in caring for the boy.

"Oh, that reminds me. We've assigned this lovely young elf to him, he's only a few years old so Azrael can always have him on hand. Your grandfather just bought from the Malfoys; he the child of your grandfather's elf actually, and one of the Malfoy's elves.

That must have been the business his grandfather was referring to. Sirius' face instantly dropped thinking of the way that Malfoys treated their elves but before he had a chance to argue his grandmother started again. "Come now, don't make that face. The elf is young and the Malfoys had very little interaction with him. He has barely left his mother's teat."

Analise swatted Sirius on the head as he pulled a face at the name Malfoy.

"I don't like the way that Abraxas and Lucius handle their elves either Sirius, you know that." She chastised him gently, her exasperation toward her grandson clear.

"Besides, do you want Krasus caring for him?" Analise raised an eyebrow as she asked Sirius the rhetorical question. "You really do have to meet the new elf Sirius, he's just darling!"

Sirius made another face at his grandmother.

"Sirius Arcturus Black. You will give this elf a chance, at the very least, and you will show respect for the Malfoy family – at least while we are in public. Your cousin Narcissa married Lord Malfoy's heir." Analise was lecturing him with both hands on her hips now, her tone was dangerously impatient.

"A marriage that their family was not worthy of -"

"Sirius! You know full well that the Malfoys are a highborn family, yes they are not as prestigious of us but they are an acceptable family and hold considerable wealth and power, she is being well cared for and is a powerful witch of her own accord!" Her tone grew less sharp and Sirius' posture changed from resistant to defeated.

"Fine, gran. I promise to be polite to the pompous blondes." Analise accepted Sirius' promise, knowing that it was likely the best she would be able to extract from the man.

"Now, meet Dobby." Analise reverted back to her cheery self instantly.

Just a moment after Analise said the elf's name he appeared in front of them. He wore a navy blue pillowcase that someone had shrunken down for him to be more appropriately sized. "Lady Black is calling Dobby ma'am?" the young elf asked. His too-large eyes stared up at the two adults with admiration.

"We're just checking in Dobby dear, how is little Azrael?" Analise spoke warmly to the little elf, who in turn flushed from the kindness.

"Little Black Master is fine Mistress Lady Black ma'am. He is currently being asleep and Dobby is not waking him." Dobby's voice was high and excited while he bounced in place.

Sirius smiled, instantly liking the pleasant and energetic elf. "Dobby, do you like caring for Azrael?" Sirius asked the young elf with a serious tone. He was a little concerned that such a young elf wouldn't be able to handle such a small child.

"Dobby likes caring for Black Master, and Black Master seems to be liking Dobby. He bes sleeping a lot of the time but Dobby is not minding because Dobby cleans little Black Master's room and clothes. And little Black Master is quiet when he is awake and we bes playing ears!"

Both adults just looked at the elf in confusion when he talked about playing 'ears'. "That's great, Dobby, take good care of him." Sirius smiled down at the elf, relieved that he was nothing like the elf he had grown up with, Krasus. Sure this little elf was a bit strange, but he wasn't vile and he seemed competent. Krasus' son Kreacher, Sirius's brother's elf, seemed a little worse for wear after having Krasus as a father of he was being honest.

"Of course Dobby will be well-ly taking care of little Black Master." Dobby nodded vigorously the entire time he was speaking.

"We know you will Dobby. Dobby we'll be hosting a dinner party this evening, please let Sirius or myself know if Azrael needs for anything, or if you need anything." Analise's voice was kind and gentle as she made the offer to the young elf.

"Lady Black Ma'am is being too kind. Too kind to Dobby." The little elf looked reverently up at Analise before disappearing with an almost inaudible pop.

"Quirky little thing, isn't he?" Sirius commented, a light smile still playing on his lips.

"Definitely, but he is very intelligent and talented. He is perfect for little Azrael." Analise stated proudly as she fussed over her hair in a mirror that she had conjured to float in front of her.

It wasn't long before another elf popped into the room, this one dressed in a grey pillowcase similar to Dobby's. "Tally is to be informing the Lady and Heir that their guests have begun to arrive. Tally will be meeting thems in the receiving room." The elf was considerably taller than Dobby, a consequence of being much older.

"Thank you Tally dear, we will be right down," Analise replied, directing a kind smile at the elf who simply nodded and popped back out of the room.

Sirius took a deep breath to steady his breathing, and then straightened his posture. "Are you ready, grandmother?" He asked, extending his hand to her.

Analise walked straight past Sirius' outstretched hand. "Of course I am, get your thumbs out of your arse and quit dilly-dallying, come along now!" She wore a smirk on her face as she chastised him.

Sirius chuckled and followed quickly behind his grandmother, she had never respected the customs that required the women married into ancient and noble houses to be escorted into events by a male member of the house. It was one of the few customs she paid no heed to; among others that appeared to demean her position and strength. She was a fiercely independent woman and had always insisted on forging her own path—both figuratively and literally.

**-o-**

Dinner was a lively affair. The elves had prepared a large number of dishes for the party to enjoy, ranging from roasted chickens to an ostrich stew. Everyone had eaten merrily and there had been a festive feeling in the room which was appropriate as they were essentially celebrating the birth of a child on the mainline.

The formal dining hall of the Black estate was a long room with a high pointed ceiling. The walls of the dining hall were made of a smooth black stone that easily reflected light while the floors were made of what appeared to be highly polished purpleheart wood. There were tiny runes carved into the wood along the walls and doorways, serving as anchors for wards and other enchantments. The room was windowless as was custom, and the walls held no decorations save for silver mounts that held long white candles.

The focal point of the room was, of course, a large table that stretched the length of the room. It was made of the same dark walnut wood that was found all through the manor. The table was as old as the room itself and was decorated with meticulously carved flowers and stars. The tabletop itself was covered in a long silver silk table runner with tall white candles burning in silver candelabrums. The chairs on either end of the table were decorated with the same intricate carvings and were upholstered with black silk. The rest of the chairs that ran up and down the sides of the table were relatively simple and upholstered with a matching silver-grey fabric.

The dining hall was filled to capacity. Many nobles and wealthy families aligned to the dark had been invited to the celebration. Some were noble houses while others were families of enormous wealth; all the same, they had earned their place around the table of House Black. The Bones family were in attendance as they were in every event hosted or attended by the House of Black, as were the Ollivanders, Lovegoods, Malfoys, Rosiers, Lestranges, Malkins, Greengrasses, and Ogdens. The Delacours, a highly esteemed French pureblood family, were even attending, they had been invited since they were Analise's birth family.

"Analise, the goose was simply divine!" Lady Malfoy smiled at her from down the table on her left. They had only just finished up the dinner portion of the social gathering and the party was settled back into their chairs drinking tea and eating deserts.

"I'll be sure to pass along your compliments on to our Chef elf." Analise smiled politely at the woman. Nobody had a chance to say anything else before Arcturus rose to his feet.

"As is customary, I would like to propose a toast." Everyone in the room fell into silence as an elf appeared and began pouring a healthy portion of dark red wine into a glass in front of everyone present. "As you have all likely heard, or as some of you have witnessed" he nodded to the Bones and Ollivander families "House Black has adopted a child as its protectorate. My heir, Sirius, found the child in a time of desperate need and has brought him into our lives." People around the room nodded respectfully.

"This is, of course, the public version of the story." Several faces in the room lit up. Lady Lovegood's eyes sparked with amusement as he spoke, and Marus watched over the crowd carefully, ready to stand and defend his friend in the unlikely chance that someone challenged him.

"As you know, the Ancient and Noble houses tend to guard their secrets carefully. This is especially true for Dark families, such as my own." Several people nodded to Arcturus' words this time. "This secret shall need to be safely guarded, and for that reason the wine I have provided to all of you is dosed with a privacy serum, to prevent the information I am about to share, or memories linked to it, from being shared or taken from your minds. You may be more familiar with the serum as obscuring elixir." Several people's brow rose in surprise at Arcturus' words, obscuring elixir was not the easiest substance to get one's hands-on.

"I am aware that I am asking a lot from you, but understand my friends, my allies, my partners, that what I am about to tell you warrants the degree of security I am asking for." Arcturus' voice and face had remained calm and sincere the entire time, and he paused just long enough to watch the serving elf pour the final glass of wine.

"I ask now, friends, that we toast to my houses' new protectorate, Azrael Vega." Nobody blinked at Arcturus' decision not to include the last name of the child – they had assumed, of course, that Azrael was a Black. Arcturus took a long sip of his own wine before sitting down with an air of finality.

Marus was the first to rise from his seat and raise his glass of dark red wine into the air. "To Azrael" his voice was firm and supportive and he stared at Arcturus with a proud, pleased gaze and drank some of the wine.

Marus was followed silently by Garrick Ollivander who was allotted the next drink by custom of his Ancient and Noble blood. He simply stood, nodded toward Arcturus and then Sirius, before drinking his own wine. Garrick was followed immediately by Analise's family, and then the remainder of the party in order of rank.

Arcturus stood again once everyone in the room had drunk the wine provided. "Now, of course, all of the Ancient and Noble families have witnessed the formal reading of the boy's inheritance meaning that Marus, Garrick, and our respective families already know the news I am about to share with you all. But as we all know well, those who witnessed the naming ceremony are honor-bound not to reveal the details of the child's birth to any outside the ancient seven until the child's family chooses to do so. Thus, we have gathered all of you here tonight, our closest friends, allies, and partners to share our wonderful news." Arcturus' face had shifted from its usual respectful and reserved posture to one of joy.

"Azrael was born two nights ago when he was immediately abandoned by his birth family on the advice of Albus Dumbledore." Several people jeered at the name, their faces contorting into anger. Several of the women and young heirs in the room gasped, not being familiar with Albus' history of vicious violence where it concerned dark children. "He was born to a light family, of both Ancient and Noble blood." Arcturus paused again but before the room could escalate any further, he spoke louder. "You may be aware, despite their neglect to inform us, that the Potter family birthed an heir that very night. Azrael was their second born, the youngest of two sons." The room had descended into a roar of whispers.

Arcturus reached into his robes and pulled the golden scroll that the Goblins had handed Analise during Azrael's naming ritual. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you all to be patient just a moment longer, as there is more." The party acquiesced, and held their tongues for another moment, everyone sitting on the edge of their seats. "I hold in my hand the results of the standard inheritance test for the newest addition to the House of Black." Arcturus paused just long enough to scan the faces in the room. "Formally, he has been named Azrael Vega. His second name given in the tradition of our family, to grant meaningful names we have found from the stars. And his first name, Azrael, derived from his family heritage and given by lady magic, who has also blessed the child with the blood of magic of the line Peverell."

Arcturus watched many faces in the room transition from intrigued, to shocked, to thoughtful, to shocked once more. He had after all assembled the majority of the powerful Dark families in wizarding Britain and even a dark French family. The birth of a Peverell, the re-emergence of the third dark Ancient and Noble family in Wizarding Britain, and the oldest family at that, would have a large impact on all of their lives.

"I have brought you here to hear this news for reasons that I feel are obvious." Arcturus voice grew louder and increasingly fierce as he spoke. "My friends, this child represents a reckoning for the dark. No longer shall the light rule over us and beat us into submission, chase us into the shadows, destroy our families, homes, and persecute our children. We will no longer be unjustly imprisoned. Kept from occupying positions of power. We will dismantle the light's weapon, the Ministry of Magic, and if they resist us we will wrench it from their cold dead hands. We have been reborn with new life, new blood, and new vigor. And we will all have to work together to reap the benefits of this blessing from Lady Magic herself!"

The group in the room were buzzing with excitement as Arcturus finished his rousing speech. All of them had ideas rushing through their heads of what needed to be done in the coming years. The lower lords of the noble houses sat chattering excitedly, planning their respective rises to power and how they and their families could benefit from these changes. Arcturus, however, sat quietly in his chair and returned to his wine and dessert. He and Marus shared a long meaningful look.

They finally would have an opportunity to return things to their natural balance, and this was step one.

Quite sometime after the dinner party had finished two old friends, Arcturus and Marus sat opposite to one another relaxed in armchairs in one of the Black estate's many lounges. They both held glasses of their favorite vintage of fire-whiskey, and their feet rested on a shared ottoman.

"Did you see Abraxas' robes?" Marus asked Arcturus, his face alight with amusement.

"I don't think anyone in that room could help but see them, such a gaudy mess, what was he thinking, ice blue." The men shared a deep chuckle and then each took a long drawl from their drinks. They sat in silence for a moment, a lifetime of friendship creating comfort in the silence that would have been absent between many others.

"This truly is miraculous news, Arcturus." Marus' voice was soft and quiet as he spoke to his closest friend and confidant.

"Wonderful, but harrowing. I did not think that we would be heading back into battle Marus." Arcturus' voice was hopeful but tired. The two friends gazed at each other for some time before either of them decided to speak again.

"It won't be like last time Arcturus, we-" Marus' soft words were cut off by Arcturus.

"I know it won't. We are not boys anymore. Not fools…" Arcturus didn't finish the thought, they both knew what Arcturus had left unsaid. Both men continued to sit in silence, choosing for the moment to spend time in the past.

Eventually, Arcturus' distraction intensified. His nostalgia melting, he instead stared vacantly out the nearby window watching a bird of the night play above the canopy of the great forest his ancestors had planted. He watched as the large bird dipped low, just grazing above the canopy before spiraling up just to do it all over again.

"What has you so distracted, my friend?" Marus's gaze focused closely on his friend's face.

Arcturus didn't reply, for Arcturus had not even heard him. His face remained vacant of expression as he continued to watch the bird playing over the great and ancient black forest only to be captured by something jumping from the canopy just as the bird dipped close to it. The bird was pulled down into the canopy as if it had never been there.

"Dumbledore likely knows already. They will strike, Marus. Hard and fast like the deceitful beasts they are. There will be no honor in their violence." Arcturus continued to stare out the window at where the bird once was, the sky was now an empty void of undisturbed darkness; except the stars of course. The stars would always be there.

"Then we must strike harder and faster my friend," Marus replied at once. His voice held passion that reminded Arcturus so much of his youth when they had adventured around Europe alongside Grindelwald.

Arcturus was about to reply, a plan already formed on his lips, when the bird appeared again. It had burst up from the canopy carrying something many times larger than itself, likely its attacker, away into the night.

He changed his mind. "No, old friend. We do not need to strike harder, or faster." Arcturus stopped speaking and took a long sip of his whiskey as he watched the bird fade into the darkness carrying away its dinner.

Marus knew better than to correct his friend. Arcturus had always been the better tactician between the two. He turned his head and attempted in vain to see what it is that had captured Arcturus' attention. "What is it that you propose then, Arcturus?" Marus' voice held no disrespect, but instead a curiosity.

"Such is the nature of darkness," Arcturus replied simply. He took another long sip of his whiskey and then turned back to his friend. "Let them try and strike at us, we will feign weakness and let them grow arrogant in their small victories until they think us too weak to strike back." Arcturus' lip curled upward, teasing a smirk as he spoke.

"And then we crush them." Marus' face curled into a similar expression to that of Arcturus.

"They will crush themselves," Arcturus replied. Both men wore full smirks as they both emptied their glasses and poured fresh drinks. They would have a busy night preparing for the next Wizengamot assembly.

**-o-**

Sirius entered the newly finished nursery beside his own chambers. The room was fairly large and had a supply closet attached that was stocked with diapers, extra blankets, hygiene products and the like. There as a large cradle in the center of the room with a high and elegant frame designed to keep the child safe. The back wall was a large bay window that showed the night sky and its stars like a beautiful mosaic.

A large mobile hovered above the cradle and various plush forms of magical animals and items rotated slowly, bobbing up and down as they rotated in a circle. The child inside the crib seemed to pay close attention to the thestral and a gray phoenix that were on opposite sides of the invisible rotating mobile.

"Hey, little buddy" Sirius smiled down warmly at the boy as he approached the crib. The small baby gurgled happily up at him.

"You're happy to see me aren't you?" Sirius's smile only got warmer as the child started making spit bubbles and wriggled slightly; he was obviously excited to see Sirius. Careful to support the child's head, Sirius lifted him out of the cradle and held him gently in his arms, he was so small and precious, so fragile.

"Your grandpa says that you're special, because of your name," Sirius said to the child. The boy's eyes fluttered sleepily. "But I don't agree with him." The boy blinked as if he understood, but Sirius knew better. "I think your name is special because you're a special little boy." The boy gurgled quietly and then his eyes finally fluttered shut as he let out a tiny soft yawn. Sirius grinned, watching his cute little face as he fell asleep.

Sirius moved carefully to a rocking chair that had been placed in a corner of the room to offer a view that overlooked the ancient forest. Sirius was careful not to disturb Azrael as he sat and began to rock the chair back and forth in slow but long arcs. He continued to rock the child for quite some time. He wasn't sure exactly how long. Eventually, Dobby came in and replaced all the bedding in Azrael's crib. Sirius had a feeling that the elf had already changed it a few times today, but he wasn't going to complain. The little elf disappeared as quickly and silently as he had come in.

Sirius continued to rock back and forth quietly, eventually, his rocking matched the pace of Azrael's slow breathing. He looked up when light crept across his face from the door which had just crept open. He turned his head to see his grandmother enter the room. Her eyes searched the room until she spotted Sirius in the rocking chair. Her face crinkled into a smile unlike any other he had seen from his gran. Her makeup had all been washed off, her jewelry removed, and her fancy clothes exchanged for a thick bathrobe. But her imperfections, the wrinkles around her eyes and the light freckles on her cheeks just served to make the smile that she sent him even warmer – it almost glowed.

She closed the door slowly without making any noise or saying a word, the smile was enough.

Azrael stirred just a little and then settled back into a deep sleep.

**A/N:**

Hope you all enjoyed. Sorry for the delay, school will be a little demanding than normal for the next little while. All reviews, follows, favourites, an PMs are appreciated!


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